The Rivalry
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: Every revolution had its beginning. The Founders'. Grindlewald's. Lord Voldemort's. The question is, are you ready for THIS? 4th year fic. HardCore!Draco. Sarcastic!Draco. Broken!Harry. Inventor!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**The Rivalry**

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Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Opposition. Antagonism. Jealousy.

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**Rating: T**.

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Alchemy. Violence. Manipulation. Criminal behavior. Bribery. Hidden genius. Torture. Secrets. Changes in perception. Exploitation. The Greater Good. Dark Creatures. Blood Rituals. Blackmail. Underground magical culture. Alternative classes. Spellcrafting. Unforeseen consequences.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! I love seeing what you guys pick up on.

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***~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~**~*D*~*M*~***

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_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade - Masquerade!_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you_

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade - Masquerade!_

_Look there's another mask behind you...b__ut who can name the face...?_

_Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads -Masquerade!_

_Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you - Masquerade!_

_Seething shadows breathing lies, you can fool any friend who ever knew you_

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**Chapter One.**

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He practiced the appropriate facial responses and used them artfully against the ones he learned them from. He could get a rise out of anyone. Make them upset or fearful. When you allow someone to affect how you feel you are giving them power over you. He held this power over them, his peers. Only sometimes...Potter. When they dueled, verbally or magically, the red gleam peering through emerald eyes. The tilt of the mouth. Potter understood. He played the game. They were both pretending.

**Never let them close. Never let them know.**

Draco watched in feigned disinterest the crimson clad object of his thoughts wander into the potions classroom. The Gryffindor pulled back his chair, tossed his bag underneath it carelessly and sprawled in his seat in a graceful way only wild animals could obtain. Granger leaned in to tell him something and Potter raised a hand to cut her off. She huffed, plopped down in the chair beside him and crossed her arms.

All that was missing was- _"Harry I wasn't finished!" _The ginger.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at the outburst. Draco covered his mouth with his hand, turned to the side and coughed delicately. A subtle show of amusement. It was one of those days. People liked to say that he and Potter were bad when it came to fighting, but honestly, Potter and Weasley were far worse. Maybe because it was personal? Potter never took anything Draco said personally and easily gave as good as he got without whining about the outcome later on. When Potter and Weasely fought though, the whole school moved out of the way to avoid getting hit and, of course, to watch. It may have just been the novelty of seeing inner house politics out in the open, everyone knew most of Gryffindor listened to Harry unless Weasley opened his mouth, and then only because there were so many Weasleys and the youngest male was seemingly Potter's closest friend. Lately the youngest male Weasley was finding himself more often out of Potter's favour and it was causing a rift in the house. This change came about toward the end of last year. Before that, in second year, no one knew what to make of Potter, let alone the Gryffindors, who were disturbingly quick to turn on the boy when he didn't have a viable defense for his actions concerning his snake speaking ability.

**Watch them. Mimic their anger, their laughter, their feelings. **

Circe knows why it should matter. If he could speak with kittens none of them would have minded, and they certainly wouldn't have shunned him for it, even though that would have been a true magical abnormality and an obvious sign of a Feral whom standard light affiliated magic users, politically light anyway, favoured about as well as they favoured Werewolves or Centaurs. As in, not at all. Obviously a Feral, even if it was a feline-feral that only spoke to kittens, is an agent of evil here to do evil things. Perhaps manipulating the poor innocent kittens to do his bidding in his evil cat army? Such was the mind of the average Gryffindor.

**Reflect. Never let them in.**

He thoroughly enjoyed watching Potter and the Weasel when they weren't getting on. The tall hot-headed boy would say something undoubtedly stupid, tact was not one of his skills, and Potter would send him spinning into the wall. Magically of course, the Weasel was huge. The only other time Potter had that look in his eyes, the only other time his power rang out like that was when he was fighting Draco himself. The Slytherin was addicted to the feeling. That immediate sense of a worthy opponent, of danger and darkness and all the things Potter pretended not to be. Draco knew the truth. He could see it.

**Control.**

The flash of red coming through the usually emerald green eyes hidden behind hideous spectacles. The tightening of his jaw and the mostly hidden smirk whenever he and Draco got in a confrontation. The desire to hurt Draco, to duel, to curse. The face of a boy longing for the moments he could be himself. And Draco went out of his way to antagonize him, to get him to the point his true self broke the golden boy mask and the real spirit within came out to play.

Granger fixed them both with a glare. "This is insane. You need to make up already. Do you want me to recite a list of reasons why? Because I will."

"First off, you don't even know what it is I'm mad at him about." Said Potter in a bland voice, "Secondly I'd rather you didn't, that _is_ why I ignored you the first time."

Unfortunately Snape arrived and ordered the lot of them to their proper seats. Draco's lips tugged downward just a bit. He gave a silent sigh. Potter would probably forgive the menace before Draco got to see them pummel each other. Pity.

**Pay attention. What are they doing? Why are they doing it?**

"...will no doubt be a shock to the system. I do not care if you are sick, suffering a brain injury or imprisoned, you will finish the assignment and be prepared for your presentation on time. No exceptions. No,_ none_ Mr Weasley, there are many of you I am sure your parents can replace you with a brother if the need arises. Deliberate misinterpretation of the project instructions will result in a zero, loss of points, detention as well a significantly soul searing reduction to your final score at the end of the year. If you do not wish to repeat this miserable year you will take me seriously. If I have to endure an extra year of your presence, you will wish you'd thrown yourself off of the Astronomy tower rather than screw this up." Dark eyes pinned the class.

Snape turned and flicked his wand at the board, writing spiraled across it. "Clear? On the board you can see a list of suggested topics to research in your initial search for a suitable potion to do your presentation on. Do not choose any of them. They are the easy way out and I am forced to present them by the Headmaster, who believes I push you beyond your capabilities. If you are in fact, the age of fourteen or greater and can not yet_ think for yourself_ it is my opinion you have more important problems than this assignment. Thus my rule to disregard the list, stands. Those of you interested in pursuing in career dealing with potions or alchemy will do well to pay attention, as there will be, as required, a small invited assembly to witness your presentations." The murmuring which broke out halfway through his speech stopped when he turned around. "Allow me to remind you that the non-lethal requirement of this project is _non-negotiable_, and I have a highly developed ability to sense poisons in my drink as well as discover the one who put it there and return your gesture accordingly. I do not wish to speak so highly of myself, it is generally rude, however I assure I will not be caught doing so. You will have access to _only_ the ingredients you are able to procure on your own, this does not mean sneaking into my private stores or the school stores shared by the potions classroom, the healing night class or the medi-wing. Anyone caught will..."

The day brightened considerably several minutes of not-quite-subtle threatening verbiage later, when Snape declared it was a partnered project. In a feeble attempt to thwart what they knew was coming everyone reached out and grabbed hold of their preferred choice for partner. Draco of course did not participate in the tradition of useless optimistic actions, and did not like physical contact. He merely nodded at Zabini over Nott's head, who was trying desperately to get his attention, Zabini nodded back in agreement. The Nott heir pouted. Draco ignored that as well.

Their stoic professor gave them one minute of hopeful breath holding before dashing it to pieces with a vicious half-smile. "I have already assigned partners for you. As I call you move to sit with your partner, you will be sitting with each other for the next three weeks. Enjoy."

While those around him scowled and groaned and moaned about injustice Draco turned to his right and locked eyes with Potter, who was already looking in his direction. Draco raised a brow, Potter returned the gesture flippantly. Draco crossed his arms and put his feet on the table. Potter copied him. They glared at one another, neither yielding, until Pansy Parkinson unceremoniously dumped Potter out of his chair so she could sit beside Granger.

**Remember. **

They didn't bother listening to Snape or waiting for confirmation. Whenever they were assigned pairs in any class that Slytherin and Gryffindor held together the professor would always put Draco and Potter together. It was some unwritten rule of cruel and unusual punishment. The chair next to him was pushed back. Draco glanced to the side and grinned at the newly arrived Gryffindor. "Welcome Potter. Have a seat." He said that magnanimously, as was deserving. Anyone should be thrilled to partner with him in potions, it was his best subject.

Potter sat down and glared at Draco as if it was his fault. Apparently he didn't see the opportunity for the blessing it was.

"I would have won that one." He grumbled then, tracing a scratch on the desk.

Draco pulled down his feet. "The world will never know." He set to copying down the instructions on the board verbatim. You had to know the exact wording if you wanted to expose and utilize any loopholes. After all, Severus was first and foremost Slytherin...

_"The potentially devastating yet non-lethal, legal potions in use today-_" Potter read aloud. _"-explain your choice and be prepared to defend it."_

"Any ideas in that thick head of yours?" He asked, half-listening, eagle feather quill moving along the parchment in practiced perfection.

Potter rested his cheek against his hand and shook his head. "I've sworn to Hermione I won't quarrel with you today."

Draco eyed the other boy through his lashes. "That's...unlikely."

"I'm aware. She's loyal to the idea it can happen so who am I to destroy her unrealistic dreams? Additionally, that insult sucked."

It had. "Its been four years. Embarrass yourself a bit more if you want better insults."

The raven haired boy looked at him with mock sincerity. "I'll get right on that." When he continued staring at him Draco leaned away slightly, not out of genuine fear Potter might try to end him, but because Potter giving anything that amount of his attention seemed to leave the object of his attention worse for the wear after word. Being burnt to ash or stabbed with a sword or nearly eaten by a werewolf...

"Yes?" He drawled.

"How do you do that?"

Don't ask. Don't. "Do what?"

Potter searched for the words. "Look perfect all the time."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly in love with me? Because the potions classroom is a tad unromantic." He bit his cheek to keep from grinning at the flush blooming on potter's tanned face. It was just too easy.

"That isn't what I meant!" The Gryffindor protested.

"Alright." Draco said, having mercy, "What _did_ you mean?"

The smaller boy gestured at him. "You're always so clean. Your fingernails are clean and trim, never stained with ink, and your clothes are clean and creased and I don't think I've ever even seen your tie undone." In direct contradiction Draco had never seen Potter's tie anything but loose over his shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves sleeves rolled up. Merlin knew where his vest had gone. He hadn't seen it since first year maybe.

**Connect the dots.**

He leaned forward and motioned for Potter to come closer. "I'm pure at heart. It repels the dirt."

Potter snorted.

"I take offense to that." Said Draco. "First I'm perfect and now you're making derisive noises in my direction. What am I supposed to think with all of these mixed signals?" In front of them a Gryffindor with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail giggled, glancing back at them then facing forward where she continued giggling.

Potter's quill tore his parchment, eyes wide. He shot Draco a glare. "Are you always this loathsome and annoying Draco?"

"No, sometimes I'm asleep."

Potter gave him a small smile. "Let's be fair, I bet you manage to be annoying even then."

"But not loathsome?" He inquired.

"I'm sure you give it your best effort."

He felt his lips pull upward. "Alas, sleep-wickedness is beyond my current capabilities."

"But potions brewing isn't. As such I elect myself for theoretical research and you for the actual brewing process. It's best to play to our strengths!" Potter clapped his hands once as if that settled things then promptly leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Draco turned in his seat. "Using compliments to get yourself out of something? How un-Gryffindor."

"I won't tell if you won't." Potter said, opening one eye.

"Ah, but I have no desire to do all of the brewing myself therefore-" he raised his hand. Potter tackled him before Snape could see it, hand planted over Draco's mouth. They hit the floor and scrambled to pin the other, Draco still trying to wave his hand and get the professors attention. The Gryffindor octopus made this difficult by somehow being everywhere at once. Draco lifted the smaller boy, who gave a very unmanly squeal he would be teasing him about later, and tossed him to the side, knocking a chair over. Several students looked over at the sound of the crash, seeing it was him and Potter they smirked and went back to their work. His peers' concern was heart warming. Truly. Managing to pin the boy beneath him he punched Potter in the stomach, and sat up grinning in triumph when the smaller boy released him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his robes, folding his legs under him to survey the damage to their work station. "Are you going to do your share of the work?" he asked.

Potter, still trying to catch his breath, flipped him off.

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

The Gryffindor sat up, panting and rubbing at his stomach. "That hurt."

"You_ tackled_ me to the _floor._"

"You're the Slytherin. Why do _I_ always end up feeling guilty?" Potter asked aloud. H stood and began fixing their workstation. Draco cleared his throat and held out his hand expectantly. Potter scoffed but helped him to his feet. He always did.

"I don't know how you can be so stubborn."

Draco tapped his notes, which had managed to remain exactly where he left them, to make another copy and then he handed it to Potter. He meant it when he said they were doing it together so the raven haired menace better read them. "It's a superpower. I was bitten by a radioactive mule." He deadpanned.

Silence. Draco debated not asking but his curiosity was a vital flaw in his genetic makeup. With a resigned sigh he asked, "What now?"

"That's a muggle reference." Said Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-state-the-obvious.

**Show nothing.**

"I do read you know." Draco paused, "You'd think Granger would stuff a bit of literature down_ your_ throat once in a while out of_ know-it-all ever-loving-book-worm_ principle."

"...I read."

"If you say so."

Draco felt something nudge his shoulder. "Stop." It happened again followed by a whine. "Stop touching me Nott, you're not stealing my topic."

Another nudge. Potter's hand snaked out and caught Nott about the wrist. Draco watched him turned in his seat to stare down the spiky haired Slytherin sitting there. "Seriously." Said Potter, "Stop touching him." Nott swallowed uncomfortably. Potter held on to the arm for another minute then released it with a small, polite smile. "Thank you."

"Noble." Said Draco.

Potter turned narrowed eyes on him, red glinting through the green. "Don't start."

"So, you don't want anyone_ else_ touching me? Because you just tackled me to the ground, you remember that don't you?"

_"Malfoy."_

"A regular knight in shining-" The bell rang.

Everyone began to leave. He reached for his quill when a small tanned hand on his jumper stopped him. "The next time I see you outside of class I'm throwing something at you."

Draco gave Potter a mocking bow and smiled. "I'd expect nothing less."

**Control.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.**

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

Got Questions? Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** as of June I'm going through and making some small changes, mostly pertaining to spelling and consistency. Nothing major thus far.

-Pseu

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_I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like a__nd right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe_

_I love it, the more I suffer_

_And we fall back into the same patterns, the same routine_

_But your temper's just as bad as mine is, you're the same as me_

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Harry let himself have a moment to glare at the back of Malfoy's head, took a breath, cleared his face, then put his potions book into his bag, swung it over his shoulder and started making his way to his next class.

Generally speaking Harry Potter was very good at not letting things get to him. His whole life bad things had happened and coming into the magical world certain hadn't changed that fact. Smiling and nodding and carrying on as if it were nothing was a survival tactic he'd learned early in life and it continued to help him now. But there were moments when the almost perfectly formed mask he wore would get a crack and a bit of the anger and resentment he shoved into the shallows of his soul would leak through. Luckily, or unluckily, the source of these cracks was usually Malfoy. Lucky because it wasn't someone who would be alarmed by such things, unlucky because Malfoy was just so damned good at making him lose it. At this point whenever they interacted outside of class he could actually hear people taking bets on them, expecting a fight of some sort. And fight they did, they fought like they were born with exactly the needed traits to perfectly piss off the other. Because while no one could get to him like Malfoy he was secure in the knowledge no one could get to Malfoy like he could. Oh there was Ron of course but that was a different sort of hate altogether.

If Harry was in the room Malfoy's spite had eyes only for him. Odd thing to be smug about really.

He went through the motions in each of his classes. Lunch came and he followed the line of hungry, hormonal students to the great hall. Hermione whispered words urging him to speak with Ron. Ron walked ahead of them, turning back to glare at Harry every so often. All of it seemed so distant to him. Sometimes it was like being in a virtual reality theatre, looking at the world through the eyes of his body but unable to connect with any of it. Harry had felt this way to an extent his entire life, but it had become harder and harder to push the feeling away lately. Like a huge rubber band was wrapped around him and he had to force his will against it and hold it back to let the feelings of the world filter in, but his arms were getting tired and the edges of the band kept coming closer.

"It's unacceptable!"

Harry jumped and looked up. They were already at the great hall, in fact they were sitting and food was before him. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, he even had food on his plate and some of it was eaten. _Merlin he was out of it. _Harry removed the chicken from his plate Hermione had piled on when he was spacing out. He took a napkin and wiped the juices from it off and replaced it with another apple. Harry picked up the half eaten one and took a bite with a satisfying crunch. He'd actually taste this half of it.

"You can always do correspondence courses or take extra classes during the summer at the ministry." Said Padma Patil soothingly. She was sitting with her twin today, tomorrow they'd have their meals at Padma's table. Even when in separate houses twins came as a package deal.

"That isn't the point, I shouldn't have to. Hogwarts is meant to be one of the greatest institutions of magic in the world. How can they take away our access to certain subjects? There was dueling in second year but that was ridiculous the only thing we learned was-"

"Not to make fun of Snape to his face." Muttered Parvati.

"-that Harry is a Parselmouth. What about Alchemy? Or Rituals? Medi-magicks? How can we be expected to take classes to suit our career needs when the classes we might need aren't available? Fourteen is old enough to get an apprenticeship! How can we get an apprenticeship in Wand-crafting if we don't take Transmutation because all we have available is Generalized Transfiguration? Or Specialized Herbology focusing on the wands woods and cores? Or Auratics to learn how they relate to a wizards magic and affinity? Merlin's early works were used for lectures and demonstrations on transmutation until three decades ago when for whatever idiotic reason they decided we were too young to learn it! Now some of them are in the restricted section and the rest are in the bloody archives! What do you think Merlin would do if he were alive today to see this?" The brunette demanded, thumping a fist on the table and causing Harry's half drunken water to slosh.

"I think he'd be too busy clawing at the inside of his coffin to much care about the state of our education." Harry said, dryly. He pulled his wand from his shoe where he'd taken to sticking it and flicked it to clean up the newly made puddle. As always, no one noticed he hadn't said a word. Or if they did they ignored it as one of those 'Harry' things.

"Harry!" Hermione looked positively scandalized.

Padma and Parvati however thought it was funny, turning their heads quickly and laughing. Hermione sent a glare their way.

Harry shot them a wink just to make her angrier. "Relax Hermione it was a joke."

"It is not funny it's...it's disrespectful. It's morbid. It's-"

The raven-haired Gryffindor could actually feel his eyes start to glaze over. Honestly, the girl read Hogwarts a History like her life depended on it but couldn't be bothered to look up the school charter to see that night, evening and weekend classes were available in alternative subjects? How did she think Lupin got through school missing Astronomy one week a month? He took night classes three days a week for the subjects he other wise would miss along with other non-human and semi-non-human students, he wasn't the only Werewolf to come through after all. He knew for a fact Draco was mixed with some sort of something because the Slytherin took the Spellcrafting night class. Of course, the Malfoys were a long line of somethings. It wasn't really mixing unless you counted the fact the Black had Feral blood. That sort of stuff didn't matter to Malfoy's kind of purebloods though, it was only_ disease carrying_ creatures like Werewolves or stander Vampires, where the change was forced that they took issue. It was hardly the newly turned werebeast's fault but that conversation had ended badly when a group of Hufflepuffs came upon them 'discussing' it and summoned a teacher for fear of them killing one another. As if the entire school hadn't seen them duel before. Damn Hufflepuffs. Of course it was first years on the second day of school, he was pretty certain that as this point any higher years were nearly immune to their inability to refrain from hexing the other. And anyway now he'd never know if he would have won the argument or not.

"-are you listening Harry? _Harry!_"

Nope. Maybe he could get Ron to start a physical fight with him in Defense Against the Dark Arts again then she could follow _Ron_ around the rest of the day nagging at him, and Harry could...damn. He still had to set up a time to meet with Malfoy about their potions assignment. Tuning out Hermione entirely, Harry reached around under the table for his bag. The leather strap slid against his hand, cool and soft, he yanked it up, pushing dishes aside and ignoring the stares from his house mates. When he brought out a bit of parchment to scribble a note on it they all relaxed and went back to their meals. He scoffed in his head. Would it be so surprising if he did ever feel the need to study at a meal like a Ravenclaw? He wasn't stupid. Shutting that can of worms away he tapped the note and in a fit of inspiration transformed it into a paper crane as Malfoy had done during their third year. Carefully he picked it up, smiled mischievously and went ahead and glamoured it red and gold. Malfoy would hate that. Harry looked up across his table to the Slytherin one just beyond. As always he and Malfoy sat facing each other.

_D_

_Meet me in the library. After dinner. Today._

_Potions Project._

_-H_

Catching silver eyes he allowed a dark smirk to blossom on his face. Malfoy blinked and raised an eyebrow. The sight of the flying red and gold monstrosity soon caught those silver eyes and the look of horror entering them when they reached the accurate conclusion he was it's intended target was fantastic. Harry covered his mouth tried to look he wasn't experimenting with projectile weapons at the lunch table. With the air of someone very much put upon the Malfoy Heir unfolded the crane and read it, leaning away when Parkinson tried to see it over his shoulder and hexing Nott when the spiky haired Slytherin tried to take it. The Blonde tossed Harry a superior look, snapped his fingers, and a quill was hurriedly placed there by a lower year. Harry snorted. Slytherin Prince indeed.

Malfoy wrote a reply on it, refolded it and sent it back. Harry scowled at the now obnoxiously green and silver crane headed his way. His table mates, finally noticing their interaction, stared at as if it carried the plaques of Egypt with it. Hermione made to snatch it, of course, but his seeker's reflexes were in top form. As always, he thought, far more smug about it then he had any right to be. It was in his head though so he figured he could be smug all he liked. He waved it at her with one hand and waggled a finger. The bookworm scoffed and turned away to eat, a very small smile in place.

_H_

_I didn't know you were aware we had a library, much less knew its location._

_I might even die of shock._

_Six. Don't be late. I bore easily._

_-D_

_Post. Script._

_Find your own signature note sending method you unoriginal thief!_

He tilted his head and considered the last part of the message. It came to him, then, out of no where, and it was brilliant. Harry picked up his glass, drank its contents, set in front of him and paused. Glancing through his bangs he quickly surmised that the students remaining at his table were already over the momentary excitement of his potentially cursed paper crane and were once again taking no notice of him. Shrugging he studied the glass and imagined in his mind what he needed it to look like. Glass was easily modifiable, it only took patience and well defined thought in your head of the shape you wanted. He pressed his magic in on the glass, heating it up and working it back and forth to thin the glass and curve it in toward the other side. You had to move you magic quickly and thread it through the object you wanted to alter, glass was easy to do this to, and convince it that it wanted to be what you needed it to be. At least, that's how Harry understood it and it worked for him. Slowly the glass warped, and bent and became a sphere the size of a snitch. Throwing in a few more spells off the top off his head, a locater for the intended target, unbreakable charm and a few others, Harry scritched another note. He pushed on opposite sides to open the sphere, set the note inside, shut it and spelled it silver and gold, complete with delicate transparent wings.

Seamus bumped into his elbow as he stood. Lunch was nearly over, the great hall was beginning to empty. Harry slid his things into his bag and stood, making for the door. He wouldn't be able to get through the crowd to slip it to Malfoy so he figured he may as well make a scene.

"Oi Malfoy!" The blonde turned, his body language defensive. So did everyone else.

"Catch."

And he chucked it at him. Malfoy, being another seeker, grabbed the sphere automatically. He looked down at it then back up at Harry, blankly. Harry mimed opening it. The boy gave him an annoyed glare.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione stood next to him glancing back and forth between him and Malfoy.

"Throwing things at Malfoy." He answered truthfully. "I promised I would."

She blinked in confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

Got Questions? Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_See me in the shadows, see me in the shadows_

_Songs I will sing of tribes and kings and the carrion bird and the hall of the slain_

_Nothing seems real, you soon will feel_

_The world we live in is another skalds dream in the shadows, dream in the shadows_

_Do not fear my reason there's nothing to hide, how bitter your treason, how bitter the lie_

_See me in the shadows_

* * *

All of the houses had their own sort of hierarchy, their own social structure and system that none of the others were privy to. They could only see the results. Of course, sometimes altercations in moves for power or dominance were, on occasion, witnessed outside of the house but they were rarely known for what they were.

Unless you were a Slytherin.

As the largest collection of children born to the group who called themselves Death Eaters, they took moves of power very seriously. House prejudice aside, one never knew when the information may come in handy, be it tomorrow or years after graduation. But if you really wanted to see power plays and politics...Slytherin was the place to be.

Subtle glances, tones of voice, eye contact, hand gestures. Anything and everything could and did mean something if you were educated in the rhymes and rhythms of such things. The pureblood society at large was an obscenely complex organism rich in customs and traditions centuries old. And the house of the snakes took it to a whole new level. It was code few outside of Slytherin House were ever able to read. Where whom sat and with whom, what they wore, who they walked with or stood beside or in front of or behind. It all mattered. They didn't just act the way they did for fun, all their little quirks, their posture and tilts of the heads and sneers...it was a hidden language in plain sight.

A game of politics, a game of intimidation, a game of _kings,_ and it never ended. In the halls, at dinner, in class or the library, in the common room or in the dorm. It never ended. One's guard, one's mask must always be in place. Prepared for any and all possible attacks. Not the physical sort, but the mental and verbal sort. Slytherin's hardly needed to dirty their hands when cerated tongues laced with poison could cripple their opposition with a word. It was a strategy that annoyed the other houses to no end. The Ravenclaws were generally smart enough to use their pureblood knowledge to get them through any needed conversations with the House of Snakes, whereas the Puffs relied on smiles and politeness to alert the Slytherins of their wish to communicate peacefully. Gryffindors...that was another matter entirely. Perhaps the only house with a social structure equal in its complexity, they were opposites in every way. The two Houses had a struggle for dominance over the other born in the time of the founders, with no discernible victory in sight.

Draco, current head of the green team for the Slytherin versus Gryffindor eternal spat, sat straight-backed just to the right of the center of the Slytherin table. A member of the Slytherin court and indeed technically the second highest ranking snake, it was his place. When Rosier graduate at the end of the Year Draco would be king and delicious a title was that? If it came with a real crown and throne and loyal subject it'd be even better, but being a Malfoy he was pretty much as close to being a King as anyone could be. He knew this of course and he never let anyone forget it. Knowledge was power and in this case, everyone else's knowledge of his father's political power and wealth did him wonders the first year of school. That was the time the older, higher ranking Slytherins did their best to 'inform' the newest snakes that they weren't with mummy and daddy and the servants anymore and were now the bottom of the food chain. Draco couldn't have that, and his father would have killed him if he had allowed it. Noticing the right things about the right people had ensured he survived the first month, noticing other things about other people and trading the information for the favour granted him a peaceful year. That and his offhand comments about his father hearing about whatever might be happening, even if it was stupid. He wouldn't really notify his father about silly little things like detention or whom was teaching, but it served to remind the other Slytherins that, his father being on the Board of Directors for the school, had access to Draco's location at all times should the need arise. Brave as they acted, the older Slytherins had no desire to mess with Lucius Malfoy. As a bonus it pissed off the Gryffindors and annoyed the Hell out of the other houses. Never let it be said Draco didn't have a sense of humour.

He took a bite of his salad and sip of water from his goblet then he allowed his eyes to look directly across to the next table over. In that place, facing him, was Potter. Since the day of their arrival this had been their seating arrangement, regardless of their place at their individual table, they always faced one another. Whether it was out of curiosity, fate, accident or an instinct to keep ones back to the wall and eye on their enemy, Draco wasn't sure. It didn't matter anymore.

He went through the choreography of dinner, nodding in the right places, interjecting a comment when needed, eyes tracking events around his table and the hall, eating, drinking, nodding in an automatic military waltz. Each socialization, each observed interaction, each fact carefully taken and stored in the warehouse of his mind, alphabetically and according to subject with practiced precision for him to peruse and examine when he had more time. As for now he dabbed his face with a napkin, rose from his seat, bid farewell and began his journey to the library. Expensive boots, silenced of course, lead the way through the halls requiring little instruction from their master. Draco had long since memorized the course. Entering the library he took a left until he nearly met the west side wall, then turn right nearly to the back, another right and then a left at the pillar. Straight into a small area with a window seat, small table and Potter. Draco always knew where to find the small Gryffindor and the other boy had long since given up being surprised about it.

Potter knew he was there, Draco knew he did, but he said nothing. Draco didn't know if he was waiting for him to announce his presence or if the page he was staring at going on five minutes was truly that fascinating. The thought Potter might find anything in a book more interesting than talking to him didn't sit well with Draco. He cleared his throat gently, mindful of the devil librarian woman who had the ability to pop out of shadowed corners whenever a loud noise made it's self known.

Terrifying female.

"Potter you requested to meet up about our assignment not a staring at the Gryffindor session."

The boy didn't look up from his book. "I suppose you do enough of that in the great hall anyway."

Draco ignored the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he clenched his jaw before smoothing his features. "I do not know what you do with your spare time Potter, but some of us have other things to do."

"Ah but you see, I'm reading a book about gravity and it's just amazing. I can't seem to put it down. ironic that."

_"Potter."_

The Gryffindor lowered the book and caught his gaze, red glinting in the green. "Ah there it is. Right there. The glare of death." He gave an innocent smile.

Draco scoffed, pulled out the chair across from him and sat, intent on making a snide remark when they were interrupted.

"Harry look, I know I shouldn't have said that but-" The ginger stopped abruptly, studying Draco with what was most definitely mutual loathing. "What is _he_ doing here?"

Draco tilted his head, face blank. "It's called socializing." Weasely stared.

"Was that too large a word? Should I point him in the direction of the dictionaries?" He mocked whispered.

Potter snorted then tried valiantly to cover it up by coughing. He did not succeed.

"That isn't funny Harry."

"Yes it was." Said Draco. Potter raised his book and hid his face behind it, though the slight shaking of shoulders told Draco he wasn't suddenly checking up the difference of gravity in space versus on the Earth.

"Honestly Harry you can't keep ignoring me." The taller boy said mournfully, giving his best large eyes of doom.

At this Potter straightened, apparently immune, green eyes narrowing. "Yes, actually, I can. Allow me to demonstrate." He turned to Draco. "How was your day?"

Draco raised a brow. Interesting development. "The same as every other day. I think I even used the same Hufflepuff first year as a writing desk as I did yesterday."

"Evil git." Muttered Weasely.

Draco turned to him. After all Potter was ignoring him, not Draco.

"You've caught me. I'm so deliriously full of wickedness I just can't keep it secret any longer. I confess, I enjoy terrorizing muggle villages and burning down their homes. And, sometimes, when I'm feeling really evil-" He paused dramatically, "I read. Or paint."

Potter, who was still pretending only Draco was present flipped through the pages in his book louder than necessary. "Do you know if we have books on Geometry?"

Draco turned to him. "Why, are you planning to use the rather large circumference of Weasley's head versus the small gray matter between his ears in a presentation somewhere on depressing abnormalities? Because I can help with that." He wondered what the world was coming to when a Pureblood and a Halfblood banded together using muggle terminology, correctly, to confuse and insult. It was even sadder if one remembered the ginger's father worked in some department at the Ministry that dealt with muggles.

"Actually I just found the word _polygon_ and it made me think of pirates."

He repressed a smile. "And what do pirates have to do with Geometry, pray tell?"

"Well, I like that it makes me think of pirates, so if I like the shape as well I'm going to make it the symbol of my ship's flag."

"Do you have a ship?" asked Draco, pulling his chair closer to see what he was reading. It was neither a book on gravity nor a book of geometry. It appeared to be a collection of theoretical experiments in progressive magicks. What was more interesting was the purple ink scribbled in every available space in Potter's handwriting. Interesting. He flicked his eyes over the notes.

_...using this we can assume all atoms are connected in a similar way and are subject to the same laws. One might wonder if there is a way to manipulate and control this phenomenon to suit ones needs. I believe there is a way and I think it is both easier and more complex than theorized. Standard translocation magicks are limited to pushing ourselves very quickly through a pulled vacuum toward a specific destination. The feeling is uncomfortable, accidents happen far too often and they're not nearly as safe as wizarding transportation had the potential to be..._

Very interesting.

"Not yet." said Potter, wistfully.

Weasley, unfortunately, hadn't taken the hint. Though Draco would gladly skip the rest of his planned evening and continue mocking him. He supposed it didn't occur to him that his friend who was upset with him and verbally told him to go away might actually mean it. Idiot Leprechaun wannabe.

The ginger stumbled over the unfamiliar term. "What's a poly...polygon?"

He couldn't resist, it was perfect. "A dead parrot." Said Draco, with a completely straight face.

A half an hour later, after the read head stomped off, Draco and Potter were still whisper-arguing about the same thing.

"I won." Stated Potter.

"No."

"Yes. I totally won."

Draco waved him off. "My taunts were much better, they certainly got to him more than your ignoring."

"No it didn't, and your jokes were only funny because I was ignoring him."

"I resent that in its highest form sir. I do not need you in order to be funny." He was actually sort of offended. Draco could be witty when he had a mind to be!

"I still win. I'm his best friend, it makes more of an impact. He expects it from you."

Silver eyes rolled without shame. "Potter I beat you on the nasty scale no matter how you look at it."

Potter raised his chin in the typical Gryffindor defiance pose.

"You take that back."

"Never." As if.

"I can be just as nasty as you!"

He grinned. "Never going to happen." Draco said, in a sing-song voice.

He ducked a book thrown his way and continued to smile at the Gryffindor, who continued to sulk.

"Let's go find him then. I bet you a galleon I can get him red-faced and spluttering in five minutes or less."

Draco tapped his chin. "Fine. You're on."

They picked up their books, which they never actually opened, Potter swung his disgusting muggle bag around his shoulder while Draco shrunk his books and put them in his pockets. Together they turned and walked out of the library to go find the Weasel. They had to find out tonight who was best at getting the ginger to blow up or they'd never get to sleep. Never mind the project that was the soul reason they were even meeting in the library, never mind that Potter and Weasely were meant to be friends, never mind that it was a bit messed up on both of their parts. It was a matter of principle. One of them had to be the best. One of them had to be the winner and the other the loser.

This was just something else to add to the score card.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field_. Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

Got Questions? Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_You told me "Yes", you held me high and I believed when you told that lie_

_I played soldier_

_You played king_

_And struck me down when I kissed that ring_

_You lost that right to hold that crown, I built you up but you let me down_

_So when you fall I'll take my turn and fan the flames as your blazes burn_

_...can't wait to burn it to the ground_

* * *

Harry spent most of Saturday morning in Gryffindor tower, sitting in a seat near the fireplace he'd long since claimed as his, looking through books, some from the library and some his own. As usual unless Ron or Hermione was sat beside him no one approached him. He didn't mind. He got more done without social distraction.

Potions wasn't his favourite subject, Alchemy and Warding were far more interesting, but Hell would freeze before he would allow Malfoy to control a school project that had his name on it too. It _was_ actually an interesting project in a way, choosing what you thought was the most dangerous potion currently available through legal means that was technically, non lethal. You had to choose your potion and then defend your choice to the class. Grades were awarded according not the amount of effort one put into it, but how cleverly they managed to convince the class of their choice. Perhaps this was why Hermione was so upset yesterday, things like public speaking and debating were once part of Hogwarts curriculum to both prepare future Lords and Ladies for their responsibilities in an objective forum, apart from the family specific lessons taught in the home prior to Hogwarts, and to enlighten the muggleborn or muggle raised students in the ways of the wizarding world and help them manage living in it a bit better. Hermione could certainly use an wizarding etiquette class because even he knew better than to do and say some of the things she did, no matter how well meaning they might be intentioned. He couldn't say any of this of course, or she'd never stop angsting to him about her academic dissatisfactions.

Normally he had Ron nearby to say something insensitive and distract her attentions from Harry but that wasn't possible for the moment. Harry might like Ron, they were friends for a very long time, but friendship and affection did not grant ownership and it did not mean Ron was automatically give forgiveness for his transgressions, if anything he ought to be punished harsher than a stranger would be. Friends weren't supposed to be the people who hurt you and Harry had had more than enough people in his life who hurt him for his own good. If he let Ron off the hook so quickly then he was giving him permission to act this way again in the future and that wouldn't do. And, in all honesty, he probably would have forgiven the other boy sooner if he'd been sorry. Oh he was sorry that Harry was mad at him and he was apologizing for making him mad but he wasn't acknowledging that he did anything wrong or why it upset Harry in the first place. And that didn't make it a worthy apology. If you accidentally shot someone because you pointed a gun at them and fired without checking to see if the safety was on, you don't say sorry just because they're upset. You say you're sorry because you damn well shot them.

Maybe he was being too muggle about this, Harry mused. Maybe there was some sort of pureblood, because Ron was a pureblood, ideology or custom he was missing here that could help him understand. He still wouldn't forgive Ron, not yet, but it would be nice to have an actual _reason_ for Ron to be so stupid and unrepentant instead of him just honestly not realizing after four years of knowing one another that saying what he did was not okay. What hurt even more, was that Ron truly meant what he said.

He shifted his position in the chair and flipped the page of his book.

"Unacceptable."

Harry marked his place in the book he was reading and looked up to meet the agitated eyes of Hermione Granger.

"Pardon?" His eye were dull and unemotional, general expression neutral verging on polite interest. The safest expression to wear when dealing with an upset female, Hermione in particular.

She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. "Your behavior with Ronald. What were you thinking Harry? Goading Malfoy into joining you in humiliating him? You can be upset if you like but being needlessly vindictive just to please your petty hurts, especially against you best friend whom I might add was trying to apologize, is despicable. You purposely went out of your way to bully someone. We aren't Slytherin's Harry and we don't get to hurt other people whenever we feel like it, other people have feelings and that matters. He apologized several times so...so quite sulking and forgive him and stop this..." she trailed off and made a vague motion in his direction.

It was a simple, everyday action but when Harry shut his book and set it down, took off his glasses, put them in his pocket and stood up the entire common room went still. He took two steps and stopped directly in front of her. Brown eyes widened and Hermione took an aborted step backward.

Harry raised one finger, speaking in a low, even voice as though discussing the weather. "This is between Ron and myself, we do not request nor do we require an owl intermediary in the form of yourself." He raised another finger. "What Ron said was thoughtless and I am not ready to forgive him for it no matter how much you harp at me about it." He raised a third finger. "I told him not to speak to me. I told him I was upset with him. I told him not to follow me. He ignored what I wanted, focused entirely on his need to earn my forgiveness and didn't spare a thought as to why I was upset in the first place. He's lucky I didn't petrify him on sight and leave him there to Malfoy's mercy. And I was tempted to do so. It is only because he is the first friend I made in the wizarding world, and an inconvenient desire to retain him as such, that I did not."

He tilted his head, face the picture of innocent curiosity. "Questions?"

She shook her head, face pale. He felt the slightest built of guilt that he pushed aside as quickly as it came.

"Excellent."

Harry glanced at his watch, decided he might as well head to the library, picked up his book, put in his bag, turned and gave a bow to the common room at large and swept out of the portrait hole.

A neatly combed head of blonde hair was visible when Harry entered his small study area, relishing in the silence of the library. Silver eyes watched him unpack his things and sit down, immediately open a book and start taking notes.

"What no witty unfounded insult against my character? No idiotic quips about books? I'm a bit offended."

He arranged his face to look apologetic. "I apologize dearest nemesis, next time I shall come better prepared to wound you verbally."

"See that you do."

He looked up when he felt Malfoy continuing to look at him. The blonde gave a smirk then, and in his best impression of Harry himself asked, "How was your day?"

Harry let out a startled laugh. "Yeah, I was a bit desperate to get rid of him."

"Obviously."

"It sucked."

A fair brow rose. "Could you be more specific?"

"It really sucked."

"Your mastery of the English language astounds." Malfoy deadpanned.

"Unfortunately a lot of people miss the subtler art of word plays and sarcasm."

"Tragic that. You wouldn't want to go around lying to people or anything."

Harry started on a second piece of parchment. "Merlin forbid that." He muttered.

"Which potion have you decided on?"

He slide his first sheet over. "Veritaserum."

"I was thinking more along the line of Amortentia. I know it isn't legal to use on another person for its intended purpose but they are legal to make and to buy to be used in medications as a partial sedative effect. It's still available and technically legal."

Harry finished scritching his sentence then set his quill aside and looked up. "Defend."

Draco closed his book and moved it, bringing his chair in closer to the table and laying his arms across it in front of him. "To me, having your emotions trifled with, just in a normal everyday way, sounds horrible. To have a love potion...to have all of these feelings you didn't have before flooding through you and unable to understand where they came from and eventually unable to remember why you shouldn't feel them, to be utterly unable to fight against or indeed even aware there is something to fight against. It's a rose coloured version of the Imperious." He gestured at Harry. "Defend."

"I picked Veritaserum because the truth, to me, is dangerous. In the wrong hands the truth becomes a weapon. The truth contains the secret to controlling anyone. You learn someone's fears, someone's weakness, someone's skeletons and you own them. The things people think but never say can destroy families, reputations and kingdoms."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, looking very pureblooded and smug about it, and thought for a minute.

"I propose an experiment. We each must try to prove to the other why our chosen potion is the better choice. The winning potion is used for our project and we'll even site the experiment in our essay. Snape will have to give us extra credit if we do that, he may hate you but I'm his godson and he won't deny me if I put in the effort."

"...I'm listening. But if you come anywhere near me with either of those potions I'm going to-"

The Slytherin waved a hand, slight sneer in place. "I'm not about to waste my time humiliating you with a potion that allows you to tell everyone exactly whom did it in a way that's admissible in court."

"I can't tell if that's meant to reassure me or threaten me."

"And anyway, we duel in the halls often enough I could probably manage to kill you off accidentally. Or at least make it look accidental. Everyone knows we fight, they'll tell the aurors that, and you of course entered into the duel willingly. I'm sure I wouldn't get more than a fine for it, maybe have to pay to erect a statue in your honour or some such ridiculous nonsense."

"Comforting."


	5. Chapter 5

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

Got Questions? Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_I turn my head to the East, I don't see nobody by my side_

_I turn my head to the West, still nobody in sight_

_So I turn my head to the North, swallow that pill that they call pride_

_The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone, dead and gone_

* * *

Every morning the Weasel attempted to speak with Potter at breakfast. Every morning Potter made his displeasure with the other boy known, to the world at large, in creative ways. When it became apparent the ginger wasn't taking the hint it became a spectator sport to the horror of the Hufflepuffs and to the bemused interest of tSlytherins. The Ravenclaws refused to admit they were interested int he outcome, though the high amount of them staring at books without turning pages just before breakfast each day said other wise. The Gryffindors of course were content to pretend nothing was happening.

The first time the even took place Potter stood up and slowly dumped an entire pitcher of juice on the Weasel's head. On another morning he put him in a body bind and hung his cloak over his head like a coat rack. This morning looked to be the best yet.

"How can you be so selfish?" Burst out the Weasel.

Potter, calmly, kept eating his porridge. The students who'd taken to coming to breakfast early to enjoy the show, sat up straighter, eyes locked on the next table over. Waiting. The Slytherins were the only ones watching without shame.

Millicent leaned over the table to Draco and whispered. "Alright before anything else happens, which team am I rooting for?"

"Potter." Said Nott before Draco could answer, a parchment with tallies denoting the two Gryffindors' points in the feud. A rumour Draco could neither confirm nor deny if asked about stated the Slytherin was taking bets from the houses.

Weasley shoved the smaller boy. "I'm talking to you!" Potter's spoon went flying. Everybody froze. Messing with Potter before he had his coffee was just asking for it. With the feral grace Draco loved to see, Potter swung his legs around the bench, stood and face the other boy.

"Go away." His voice was quiet and low, without inflection.

"No. This isn't fair. I've apologized six times and I'm not gonna let you walk around like I have to _grovel_ just because you're Harry _fucking_ Potter. Get over it. So what if it hurt your feelings, it was a joke. You knew I meant it as a joke. And this might be news to you but the world doesn't revolve around you and I don't have to follow you around like a damned dog waiting for your approval." So much angst.

Potter smiled. Oh dear. Nott scribbled on his parchment.

"I'm going to use little words. Just for you." He cleared his throat. "Fuck you."

And the brunette walked around the dumbstruck boy, straight out of the hall without another word.

Unfortunately Draco had to meet up with the small Gryffindor in an enclosed space back in the library with no one around to see him murdered in a fit of displaced rage. Well to hell with that. Seeing Potter put the ginger menace in his place was one thing and while Draco enjoyed dueling with the Gryffindor he wasn't about to be used as target practice while the other boy vented his rage.

To his satisfaction, and most certainly not to his relief, Draco ended up finding the boy wonder balancing on the railing of the seventh floor balcony, staring down a the mini-students occupying the lower levels, all the way down to the entrance hall on the first floor level. Once he was certain the boy wasn't contemplating jumping or some such nonsense he sat beside him and looked with him. Three floors down a sickeningly sweet couple walked beside one another, the boy carrying an armload of books. Silver eyes glanced at the boy next to him. With a mental shrug Draco pointed his wand at the boy. The next girl walking past them on the staircase received the boy's full attention, he actually handed off the books back to his girlfriend and starting following the other girl down the stairs. Potter laughed.

Draco repressed a pleased smile, lifting his chin. "You don't seem too worried about the moral implications of this."

Potter gave an odd sort of shrug. "Don't much care about other people's love lives anyway. If I must know about them they might as well be entertaining."

"Living vicariously through others are we?"

He made a face. "I have no desire to wander around carrying someone else's things while they rattle on about inane subjects I don't care about and then stare at me expectantly for a compliment."

"I don't see how that's any different then walking around with Granger and the Weasel. Just add in some condescending lectures and food."

"Food?"

"The Weasel is always eating. I once saw him take out bacon from a pocket _in the middle of Transfiguration_ and just start munching away. Crumbs over his robes, smearing grease around the desk." He felt an urge to clean himself just thinking about it.

"His eating habits do leave much to be desired." Potter grinned. He froze, cocked his head, nodded to himself, turned to the staircases and waved his wand at a dark haired girl with a ponytail. She tripped into a girl in front of her. The ink bottle in her hands dousing the back of the girls uniform.

Draco tilted his head. "That didn't do much."

The Gryffindor tapped his wand against his chin. Apparently accidentally blasting his jaw off wasn't a fear of his. "Watch."

He waved his wand again and the girl drenched with ink started shouting.

"I can't believe you. You're _such_ a self centered brat. Well you know what, miss popular, Aaron was with me Saturday. He wasn't off getting your birthday present he was with me in the Astronomy tower. That's right so-" She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth, horrified. Ponytail girl threw herself at her. Both of them rolled on the floor, kicking and screaming.

It was marvelous.

"Dance puppets..." Said Potter in a sing-song voice.

Draco, to his surprise, found himself laughing. "Oh Gods my cheeks hurt."

"You don't laugh often. I suppose they aren't used to the exercise." There. Right there. Now_ that_ was Potter. Merlin let the Weasel continue mucking things up.

It was for the betterment of mankind really.

"Oh I do plenty of facial stretching." He informed the Gryffindor, "Like smirking, scowling, sneering..."

"There is that." Potter agreed. They sat in comfortable silence, occasional sidelong glances confirming the other wasn't going to push them off in a fit of sociopathic rage. They hands their wands out just in case. Not that they didn't trust one another or anything.

"How did you know about the Astronomy tower?" He asked after a bit.

"I like to sit on the top of the balcony and contemplate mortality. For some odd reason no one ever sees me when they come up there."

Morbid.

"Ah yes it's _their_ fault for not seeing through your invisibility cloak."

Potter gave a small smile. "That's no excuse. I sit up there talking to myself aloud. Sometimes I hum. What sort of imbecile doesn't find that immediately suspicious? It isn't as if the castle suddenly decided to give them some music to set the mood." Potter leaned over the balcony. "How long does it take for a bunch of teenagers to descend into anarchy?"

Honestly the boy had the attention span of a kneazel. "How long?" He asked, gamely.

"Lets find out." Potter placed his hand over Draco's and directed Draco's wand, muttering a spell. Curious, Draco watched.

He felt a rush of cool energy pushed threw his wand. Barely visible shimmers began decorating the stairs. Ice. Black ice. On every. Single. One. Students were slipping and falling into piles of other students. Smacking into walls, dropping their things. It quickly escalated to people taking their frustrations out on one another.

Draco leaned to the side with a bored expression to avoid a wayward hex. It was complete and utter chaos.

Lovely.

"And now to unite them in a common purpose." Potter cupped his hands to his mouth. "It was Malfoy's wand! I saw it."

The entire group looked up, zeroing in on him. Draco tried to glare a hole through Potter's head. He was unsuccessful.

Potter smiled at him, red glinting through green in his eyes. "It _is_ the truth."

"Piss on you Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_You can be amazing, you can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug_

_You can be the outcast or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love_

_Or you can start speaking up_

_And since your history of silence won't do you any good,_

_Did you think it would?_

_Let your words be anything but empty, why don't you tell them the truth?_

_Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out_

_Honestly_

* * *

Harry sat at his usual place to the right of the classroom, Hermione sitting to the left of him. That spot was normally home to Ron in years past, now Hermione took over that role and Ron had to find a seat wherever one was left. The dark haired Gryffindor couldn't resist flashing the ginger a superior smile at every available opportunity. He knew he was riling the bigger boy and he knew it was childish, he just couldn't find it in him to care. Hermione made disapproving noises in the back of her throat Harry steadily ignored. After that night in the common room she'd keep her opinions to herself. For the most part.

Facing forward Harry brought out a muggle notebook and made a show of opening it to write in it, mostly because he thoroughly enjoyed the looks on the faces of purebloods when he was seen with it. Honestly he thought parchment looked more impressive and it was fun writing on it, but irritating other people was even more fun. Especially if they learned he actually preferred parchment and a fountain pen. Harry chewed the tip of the blatant muggle pen.

After a moment a triangular folded note made it's way to his desk. It was pink. Mentally he rolled his eyes. With a poorly concealed smirk he looked across the room and met silver eyes. Malfoy raised an imperious brow. Harry lifted his note just enough for the blonde to see, waving it. Malfoy gave a returned smirk and lifted one of his own, waving it exaggeratedly.

Harry snorted then mouthed 'How many?'

The blonde raised seven fingers. Harry lifted five. The Slytherin looked outrageously smug.

"Harry?"

He looked to his left.

"Why are you and Malfoy communicating in sign language?"

Harry blinked at his friend. "We're not."

Hermione opened her mouth but he was spared interrogation by the slamming of the door.

"Sit down, books aways, parchment out and listen." Barked Moody.

Something silver and golden nearly hit him in the face. Harry jerked back and caught it. The snitch he made. Harry leaned around Hermione to glare at Malfoy. As expected, he was un-repentant.

_Truth or Dare? _Mouthed the blonde.

He rolled his eyes. _Dare._

Harry waited for the professor to to start writing on the blackboard, then he tossed snitch at Malfoy. The blonde caught it, glanced up at the front of the room, took out a piece of parchment, wrote on it and tossed the snitch back. Harry caught it just as the Professor turned around. He hid it under his desk and froze.

"Today we are going to discuss dark spells versus light spells. What is the difference?"

Parkinson raised her hand. "Miss Parkinson?"

"One is looked down on to practice and the other isn't, but which is which depends on who you ask?" she asked snidely.

Snickers. With all eyes elsewhere Harry looked down and took out the note.

_I dare you to speak nothing but the truth until midnight tonight. _

Damn. Harry could always pretend he had a sore throat and didn't feel like talking he supposed.

"Two points to Slytherin for appreciated humor. What else? Mr Weasley?"

"Dark magicks are the sort used to hurt other people, what the ministry considers dangerous. Using them is illegal."

"No, and yes. There are light magicks that can be used to hurt someone, magic is not defined is the categories of harmful and not so harmful. One point. Anyone else?"

Hermione raised her hand. "Miss Granger?"

"Dark magic is considered unstable, addicting and potentially harmful by everyone where as light magic is considered to have a useful purpose."

The ex-auror scratched his chin. "You gave me the politically accepted definitions but_ not_ the answer I asked for. Someone else?"

Hermione huffed, no doubt outraged by the lack of points earned.

"Mr Potter?"

Double Damn.

"It's isn't _any_ of those things. Dark Magicks are those passed down by followers of Morgan and ancient magicks and practices where as Light Magicks are those techniques passed down by Merlin and his followers. There are also Black Magicks, Gray Magicks, Natural Magicks and more than I have time to list. The difference is whether you follow the ancient traditions, where you honour Mother Magic in your use of her gifts or if you use your magic as a granted tool like you would a sword or a shield, and as nothing more or less than that. As for the modern definitions? All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is generally a function of _power _rather than _truth_. You must take popular opinion with a grain of salt. That is to say, listen with an open mind but prepare yourself to analyze the information you are given regardless of the source or the thoughts of other's around you. Each of us is _affected _by our life experiences to a different degree which in turn _affects_ how we tend to colour the information we are given. Generally it is easier to agree with public opinion because your life is easier for it..." He trailed off.

Hermione raised her hand, looking directly at Harry.

"Have you considered that the publicly agreed upon terms of right and wrong _best serve _the quality of life maintained by the public to be satisfactory?"

Harry didn't bother to raise his hand. "Satisfactory? The world expects you to act and live and be a certain way depending on your supposed opinion. In this case, whether you're declared for _Dark_, declared for _Light_, declared _Neutral _or declared _Unaffiliated. _While I understand that these restrictions are put into place for reasons I wasn't yet born to hear and see, and I can also admit that most of the world believes them to be put into place for the greater good, I can't help but feel, _personally, _that no man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce and that instead all of us should be encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions and to build confidence in the creative spirit."

Malfoy was leaning forward in his seat, as were several other students. Harry was surprised to see some of them taking notes.

Hermione turned in her chair completely in order to face him. "We have a hard enough time regulating spells and things as it is! Some of these things are harmful and to allow just anyone to create whatever they want whenever they want in the current age is irresponsible. The wrong sort of people could create truly horrible things and without public knowledge of these things or regulations to control their use we have no way of knowing in what way they'll use them."

Harry glanced at the professor.

"Keep going Potter." Moody sat on his desk, arms folded.

"There isn't any way to control it _now._ Having sketchy laws saying this or that spell isn't allowed anymore isn't going to keep people from doing it. And why not? Why not create spells in the current age? We consider the Golden Age of magicks over because the time when Spellcrafters and Enchanters were a common thing has long since passed. We don't have new spells or charms or illusions created anymore. Only ones that come in and out of fashion to suit the needs of the current ministry and the political climate. Nothing ever _really _settled. Something thought of highly yesterday is frowned upon today and banned altogether tomorrow and occasionally even lost altogether. I think it's a bit of a disgrace you see. While certain limitations on our behavior is _understandable _I long for the days when people of differing ideals frequently came together to argue and debate and _create."_

Hermione frowned. "The fields today with creative progress are Alchemy and Potions, both of which are becoming more and more regulated and observed so we can be certain nothing is harmful and-"

"- and it's being _stilted." _Harry cut in. "Look at the Wolfsbane Potion. Here is an excellent opportunity to be able to study Werewolves and understand the nature of their disease but the potion it's self _isn't_ technically permitted for sale and where you can get it it's outrageously priced. You'd think the world would want to heal their friends and families or at least protect them from acquiring said disease themselves? There are so many lost opportunities that I admit I have found myself somewhat disappointed. So, no. I don't think the current terms for Dark or Light magicks is _at all _relevant. They don't even use them the way the terms are meant to be used, most of the students in this classroom don't understand the terminology. Why call this class _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ when we aren't even studying the Dark Arts? _The Unforgivables? _That isn't Dark Magic at all, if anything it's actually Light Magick because it is manipulated as a tool."

It was very quiet then.

"Twenty-five points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens, don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen_

_Places, places, get in your places, throw on your dress and put on your doll faces_

_Everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains_

_Picture, picture, smile for the picture, pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?_

_Everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains_

_D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E_

_I see things that nobody else sees_

* * *

The story of what happened in Defense spread quickly, even by Hogwarts standards. Reactions were mixed. Some were pleased Granger was shown up, while others were concerned. There was a lot of a talk about possible implications of Potter and Granger's debate. Draco thought the only reasonable implications to take from it were that Potter wasn't as dumb as he acted sometimes and that he was up to date on his wizarding culture. Fitting, considering he was the last Potter and it would fall to him to take over his family's responsibilities when he came of age. The rest of the student population, as often happened, disagreed with his assessment. They thought Potter was 'dark'. If they had bothered to listen to Potter's speech instead of picking random bits of it out they'd realize even if he was that didn't mean he was evil or about to go out and _crucio_ some muggles for sport. The purebloods knew this of course, and as such stayed out of the discussion entirely. It was the halfbloods and mudbloods making a commotion about it, and Draco would be more than satisfied if someone silenced the lot of them. They worried, loudly, that the golden boy's words were signs of his wavering allegiance, that he was trying to recruit students to the Dark or that he was purposely trying to_ embarrass_ Granger.

Granger herself fell into the last category. The frizzy brunette was an absolute child when it came to academic competition. She hated being bested by anyone, as if her constant binging of reading materials justified her self proclaimed label as the cleverest student in their year. While she was good at remembering the information she had read and then vomiting it back up as requested in an obnoxious effort to showcase her mind, that had very little to do with intelligence. In Draco's opinion. In his house Theo was the resident know-it-all and he'd_ yet_ to be ostracized for it because the soft spoken boy did not go out of his way to embarrass his classmates. He didn't hog the Professors' attention for the sole purpose of stroking his ego nor did he automatically assume he knew everything there was to know about a subject just because he'd read a lot of books on it. Knowledge from books and knowledge from experience were different and he accepted, with enviable grace, the few corrections that came his way. If Granger wasn't so stuck on her own mental superiority she might have recognized the difference in reception by their classmates and attempted to emulate Theo's more pleasing attitude of the humble bookworm.

It certainly would have cultivated her some popularity for her talents rather than the limited amount she benefited from being one of the only people allowed near Potter.

However, that wasn't a battle to be won in the space between Defense and lunch. Instead the green-eyed Gryffindor walked the halls with his attention straight ahead ignoring the accusing looks, sitting in Charms alone with no visible anxiety and walking to the great hall alone. The whispered rumbles of rumours whirling around him as he passed seemed to flow right over him. Seemed to. They didn't, each and everyone stuck inside that too sensitive head polluting the boy with self doubt and pain. It was there in his eyes.

Draco saw things no one else did.

A very, very small part of him felt a smidgen of regret. It was his dare that put Potter in this position. Then again, if the little golden boy walked around being himself instead of pretending to be somebody else he wouldn't have an issue. Say what you would about Slytherin's but their masks weren't false faces. They were shields. You wouldn't see one of them acting like a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw just because it would make them more popular or because it was more acceptable. Ambitious yes, fake no.

And that was what really bothered him the most.

Potter was being forced to be someone he wasn't and his so called friends and supporters were fake. They liked him when he was what they needed him to be but if he dared, no pun intended, to be himself, to do something or say something that was real...then the whole damn parade stumbled and crashed. And it was because of this that he'd been surprised Potter had not immediately agreed to choosing _Amortentia_ as their project potion. Potter knew better than anyone, except perhaps Uncle Severus, what is was like to be forced to play a part, to smile and nod and be something that you weren't.

Instead the small git chose _Veritaserum._ In Draco's world the truth was only a problem if you'd done something you shouldn't have and didn't want to be caught. That wasn't the case with Potter, he always did exactly the right thing according to the masses to please them.

He tilted his head and pondered it. Was this what Potter meant when he said the truth was dangerous? The boy hadn't done anything wrong, not really. He hadn't hexed someone or stolen something or tripped a Hufflepuff. The boy had given his honest opinion when asked for it. Wasn't honesty a big deal to Gryffindors? But it wasn't the right truth. Potter didn't get to say things like that, because Potter didn't _get_ to be his own person. He was an idol, a political figure, the symbol for Light triumphing over the supposed evil of Darkness. He didn't get to be a real person because the world didn't _want_ a real person.

Draco looked across the table to the raven haired boy, sitting alone in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Granger had tried to sit beside him of course and Potter in turn pretended she didn't exist. Her tantrum in the hall outside of Defense after class ended probably had something to do with it. Now the boy sat, alone, head down, playing with the food on his plate. His face, when he glanced up now and then, was blank. His eyes were not. Bitter. Hurt. Draco saw emotions playing through them as clear as blood in a glass of water. The Gryffindor's eyes had the same look in their second year during the Heir of Slytherin business.

The only thing missing was uncertainty. That had been a prevalent emotion then.

Draco pushed his salad aside. He didn't know why the look in Potter's eyes was irritating him so much. Pale hands and long finger slipped into his pocket and brought out a stack of parchment, Draco place it on the table and tapped it with his wand to enlarge it.

_H_

_Stop looking at your goblet like you want to drown yourself in it. You're traumatizing the first year Hufflepuffs. _

_I think one just burst into tears._

_-D_

He folded it, slid the silver and gold snitch open, set it carefully inside and looked up.

"Oi! Darth Potter!"

Emerald eyes snapped to his face, startled amusement flickering over the once blank face. Potter's tan hand reached out and caught it when Draco threw it at him. Another moment and the snitch flew back his direction. He caught it and flipped it open, pausing only to cast a stinging hex in Theo's direction when the over-curious wizard tried to sneak a peek at the note.

_D_

_Merlin forbid I deprive you of your favorite form of writing desk._

_-H_

His lips twitched upward. Draco snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Some lower year gave him a quill. He would never get tired of that.

Draco looked up from the note when he felt Theo stand. Lunch was over. He shrunk the rest of the parchment and put it in his pocket, stood and made his way to the doors. Potter was there just slipping through. With a smirk he raised his voice. "Think fast Potter!" The smaller boy turned and just managed to catch the snitch before it was about to slam into his face. The Gryffindor shot him an annoyed glare. Draco mimed opening it.

_H_

_I am pleased to see you understand the gravity of the situation. _

_Having to chase down second years, who have learned to hide, would be an unnecessary expenditure of calories._

_-D_

_Post Script: Your penmanship offends. Who taught you to use a quill?_

Potter's face twitched, a reluctant smile drawing across it. He gave Draco a dramatic eye roll, put the snitch in his pocket and continued out the doors. Spiked brown hair came into his line of vision.

Draco turned to see Theo standing beside him giving him a shrewed look. "What are you doing Drake?"

He thought up and examined different answers to that question. With a slight upward pull of his lips, that was certainly a sneer and not a small smile, he decided on the truth.

"...Throwing things at Potter."

Draco walked out and into the hall, ending that line of conversation, Theo following along. He had a study period next, maybe he should check out a book on Magickal Alignments and Forms of Magick for Granger. A head of him on the stairs Potter tripped spectacularly, the frantic flailing windmill of his arms in a fruitless effort to maintain his balance coaxed involuntary laughter from even the stoic Blaise. The tall, dark Italian stood to Draco's left, a hand over his mouth, eyes politely averted, trying to hide his mirth. Honestly, how anyone could really believe Potter was an evil mastermind was beyond him.

A ginger blur pushed passed him, knocking Draco into Blaise and Theo into a Ravenclaw. The four of them glared at his back.

"Harry."

Potter stiffened. "Ron." He greeted, his voice dripping with a lack of enthusiasm.

The freckled idiot, unaware of his walk toward danger, stomped up the stairs.

"Just because you're upset with me doesn't mean you get to take it out on Hermione. She was only trying to help the other day. Making her look stupid in front of everyone because your_ sensitive spirit is offended_ isn't very Gryffindor. She grew up with muggles, you know she doesn't understand this alignment stuff, it was...vindictive...to do that."

"Big words."

Weasley shuffled his weight on his feet aggressively. "See? That. What the hell_ is_ that? Why are you acting like a stuck up pureblood?"

Potter didn't seem interested in talking to the Weasel. He turned and resumed his progress up the stairs. Weasley latched onto his shoulders and spun the smaller boy around.

"_Quit walking away from me!_ Quit ignoring me I'm _sick_ of your attitude."

Potter smiled. Fantastic.

The shorter Gryffindor tilted his head slowly, face pleasantly innocent.

"For someone who doesn't want to be treated like a dog you're certainly whining like a kicked puppy."

Weasley reeled back as if Potter had hit him. "You don't get to talk to me like that!"

Potter took a step forward. "Like what?"

"Like you're bloody Malfoy!"

"Do you want to know why you always lose those little insult battles you get into with Draco?" Potter smiled. Again.

His eyes flickered over to where Draco was standing.

"It's because everything he says is true. He talks about your financial status and social status and quotes things other people have said about you and your family. He doesn't make anything up just to piss you off, like you do to him, he just says the truth. He doesn't care enough about you to sit around making up witty insults for the next time he sees you."

Everyone in the hall was quiet, watching. No one made a move to separate them or stop Potter. They just watched, the way you see a horrible accident about to happen in potions and can't help but watch it play out.

"You're poor and low class and you've got an insane amount of siblings. That partnered with your father's low paying job makes it hard for your family to get by. All true. It isn't really anything to be ashamed of, but it's true. The things you say about him are not, and that is why it rolls off of his back. If you didn't hate yourself and your life as much as you do these things wouldn't bother you as much as they do, but you can't stand your life and you're unhappy with yourself. You're petty, you're jealous, you're insecure and you're even, at times, callous."

The red head let out a small growl. "If you think so little of me maybe we shouldn't be friends."

"We aren't." Said Potter, in a soft unhappy voice.

"...What?"

"We aren't friends. I can't call you a friend when you aren't acting like one. I don't have to be the _soundboard_ for your problems or the_ punching bag_ for your emotions or the _doormat_ for your ego. That's not my job. And you don't get to make a joke of my emotions or my problems. Maybe you can't understand them, you know? You certainly can't relate. I understand that. But my fears and my insecurities and shadows and my skeletons are _worthy._ You don't get to make light of them or belittle them or gloss them over just because you're more interested in your _own_ or because you're feeling especially hateful of yourself that day and need an outlet to make you feel better about yourself. Friends don't_ do_ that. I don't deserve it and I'm not going to tolerate it." He licked his lips and took a step backward. "You don't get to use me. You don't get to demand my forgiveness. I'm angry with you, I'm allowed to be angry with you and all I want is to have some time away from you. Additionally, just so everyone understands," he raised his voice, "the incident in Defense had nothing to do with you _your majesty._"

Snickers.

"I was asked a question and I answered it. Hermione didn't have to challenge it. She did and I answered again. The issue I have with her is unrelated to the issue I have with you, so stay the hell out of it." With a twirl of his robes Potter stepped around Weasley and left.

That night when Potter approached their table in the library Draco gave him a round of applause.

"_Veritaserum_ it is."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** The first time I posted this chap there were parts of it missing. I fixed it, sorry guys.

* * *

_Well, I know the feeling, o__f finding yourself stuck out on the ledge_

_And there ain't no healing, f__rom cutting yourself with the jagged edge_

_I'm telling you that, it's never that bad_

_Take it from someone who's been where you're at_

_Laid out on the floor, a__nd you're not sure you can take this anymore_

* * *

Harry took a deep breath, pushed open the portrait and walked into the common room. He decided to act like he wasn't aware everyone was staring at him. It wasn't anything new, the staring. People were always staring. It was like being well known gave them a license to blatantly stare at you and eavesdrop on your conversations and demand to know why you've done what you've and where you've been. Being famous gave the world a false sense of ownership and it was one of the things Harry hated most about wizards and their world of magic. Of course the actual _magic_ part of it did make it somewhat bearable. Knowing you could curse the hell out of any of the bastards making your life so _suck-tastic_ was a great way to start the morning each day. Just add in orange juice and you're all set for the day.

"Harry." He tried very hard not to scream aloud and just start ripping out his hair. He didn't think that would help with the current rumours going about. Apparently evil people were mentally unstable and shrieking while clawing at yourself didn't exactly shout 'perfectly sane, nothing to see here'.

"What do you want Ron?"

The red head stopped before Harry, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Harry might have gone overboard with the emphasis of just_ how much_ he did not care what Ron wanted.

"Do you think you can forgive me...for...earlier...?"

"You mean publicly shouting at and accusing me in the entrance hall in front of literally everyone?"

"Yes, er, that."

"Sure." He gave a bright smile.

Ron wrinkled his brow. "You don't sound like you mean it." No shit.

"When you are punished for your honesty you learn to lie."

"Would you quit it with that already?"

Harry pulled the loop of his bag from his shoulder and set it on the ground. This was obviously going to be another one of those conversations. Getting Ron to accept a truth he didn't like was like replaying a scratched record again and again and trying to convince it to just skip that one spot and finish the merlin be damned song. Harry was getting tired of this melody, he was tried of fighting with Ron, he was tired of telling him why he was angry. Sometimes you just have to let things go. Not say goodbye, saying goodbye always implies there can be a hello at some point later on. He just wanted to let it go and leave it behind and carry on. If Ron couldn't understand what he'd done wrong, if he wasn't just being prideful and unwilling to admit he was wrong but was truly stumped as to why Harry was upset...then how much of a friend was he to begin with? And didn't that just feel like a punch to the gut?

"Would you ask a question that makes sense?" Harry knew he pressing Ron buttons, but he was damn over letting Ron press his and doing nothing about it in return.

"Would you stop talking like a pureblood?"

"I don't understand. Why does it matter?" He cocked his head.

Ron spluttered. "Because, this, this isn't _you."_

He was right. Harry usually did whatever Ron wanted and never got offended and smiled and nodded and never seemed to mind. It was his fault really, for letting it go on so long. Ron was used to it being okay. But everyone had a bold line that other people knew not to cross and friends didn't dance across them deliberately and then demand your forgiveness. You can't forgive someone for something they weren't sorry for. That isn't how the system works. Ron wasn't sorry for what he did, he wasn't sorry for what he said, he wasn't sorry for bringing up something Harry would rather have left alone or for being insensitive or making light of a very bad situation. Ron was sorry he didn't have someone to talk Quidditch with when Hermione tried to make him finish his Herbology assignment, He was sorry he wasn't Harry Potter's best friend anymore. And that hurt.

"How would you know? After all I'm _so busy being locked in my room it's a wonder you ever get mail from me at all." _Somewhere to the right of him he heard Hermione gasp.

The taller boy growled in frustration. "Well I didn't did I? And you never tell me anything even when you're here."

"What was it you said?_ It isn't like I had anything better to do, so why couldn't I take the time?"_

Ron paled, suddenly aware of their audience. "This isn't the place-"

"For _what?_ Loudly talking about things that aren't anyone else's business? Yes I agree. Such matters should be spoken of in private."

"I said I was sorry!" Shouted Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No, you asked if I could forgive you. An apology was never given."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry countered. "Why are you sorry Ron?"

Ron ran his fingers through his hair savagely. "For...making you angry."

He felt his heart sink. "But not for what you did. Right?"

"What?"

"You're sorry that I'm angry with you," said Harry, slowly, "but not sorry about what you _did._ This is why I won't forgive you. You don't deserve to be forgiven. You don't mean it."

"Stop being so stubborn." Ron shoved him. Hard. His back met the closed door of the portrait. "I'm trying to help you, can't you see that?"

"How, by manhandling me?" He rubbed his shoulder irritably.

"You've heard the things people are saying about you Harry and hanging around with Malfoy isn't helping you."

Harry rolled his eyes, scooped up his bag and moved to go around Ron. Malfoy wasn't the issue, he was just another excuse for Ron to justify his actions. He wasn't trying to help him. Harry and Malfoy weren't even friends, apart from note driven dares their interactions were contained within the library and the classroom. Dueling in the halls not counting as conversation. It was a complex relationship and he wasn't awake enough to try to explain it. "I'm going to bed."

Ron grabbed him by the shoulder roughly.

"I'm not going to let them use you and hurt you for their own selfish reasons."

"No, you're perfectly capable of doing that on your own."

"Can't we...can't we pretend all of this never happened?" Asked Ron, in a strangled voice. It sort of felt like the world came crashing down on him, Harry reflected, to reveal a hidden world behind it. Harry wasn't sure he liked this new world. Things were so much easier when he pretended everything was fine.

"Yes, and we could pretend we're mermish princesses. That doesn't make it true."

"Stop making jokes!"

Harry smiled bitterly. "I apologize. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain, it's a defense mechanism. I'm actually crying on the inside." And he was.

"Why can't we go back to the way things were? I want my best friend back, I want all of this to go away, I want you to stop being angry with me and hanging out with Malfoy and reading books instead of playing Snap with me."

"Life doesn't work that way. And if you really want to wake this_ particular_ sleeping dog, then the truth is that if you'd just learn to love yourself your life wouldn't bite so much to begin with. And then maybe you wouldn't _suck_ as a friend. These hurts? These grievances? You bring them on yourself. Those whispering words in your ear telling you you'll never be good enough? Those are your words Ron. You've hurt yourself and now you're determined to make the world hurt with you. Well I won't allow it. You don't get to bring me down there with you in your misery and vanity and jealousy. I have misery of my own that needs tending."

Ron exploded, causing several second years to jump. "Why not? Why can't you back to pretending you don't see these flaws? Why can't you just be happy and smile and be my friend again?"

"I don't know how else to get this across to you, Ron, so I am going to be very blunt. Okay? Acting happy is easy, being happy is not. Calling someone a friend is easy, being a friend is not. I'm not smiling because I'm not happy. I'm not treating you like a friend because you're not being one."

"You've changed."

He took in a deep breath, held it and let it out very slow. "No. The only difference between me today and me then is that I'm not pretending anymore."

"How can you hate me so easily?" Ron swallowed, looking very broken.

He walked around him, and headed up the stairs.

"I don't hate you Ron. It is not hate, it is only hurt that I feel. And after this I shall go to bed, I'll lick my wounds, which only bled because I gave a damn about you, and I'll seem to be over it by tomorrow. I've let it go, you see. I've cut the string that once attached you to me. You're free."

Harry slammed the door to the dorm behind him. The common room was still.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary**: Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: T**. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes_

_Hate in my heart, love in my mind_

_I seen nights full of pain, days of the same_

_You keep the sunshine, save me the rain_

_I search but never find, hurt but never cry_

_I work and forever try, but I'm cursed so never mind_

* * *

The other students parted automatically when Draco made his way through the common room. They didn't even have to look anymore, it was an additional survival instinct they'd learned in the four years since he arrived, bodies shifting without thought, moving to the left or the right, bags were picked up and moved and chairs pushed aside clearing the path Draco had chosen. Conversations continued, none daring to engage him, none daring to bring attention to themselves. He felt a body take up rank to his left and another to his right, keeping pace with him quietly. Two smaller ones stood behind him and two large bulky ones made up the rear. The wall moved aside and they walked, slowly and with purpose through the halls, chin parallel to the ground.

They weren't his friends, at best they were his closest associates, and the two he favored most, Blaise and Theo, even they stayed a good two feet away from him as they walked. Because Draco Malfoy wasn't a person. He was a symbol of the elite, the picture of the perfect pureblood heir, the future Lord of a noble house and their soul purpose in associating with him was to cultivate a non-violent working relationship to benefit them when they were older. These were children who wanted the added reputation by being seen with him, or by being remembered as his 'friend' in school. They wanted to have the connection to get spots in the Ministry or use his connections to garner them favours and potential allies. So Draco was all of those things. It was his job. He was to remember names and weaknesses and be The Malfoy Heir at all times, and Draco did and he was and he would continue to be. It came easy to him now, he'd been trained for this his entire life.

He couldn't complain about it, he knew he was lucky to have the money and name and connections and talents that he possessed, he was even smug about it. There were times when it was tiring, being a symbol rather than a person. There weren't many other people who could understand and those who could weren't usually people he was allowed to associate with, not even for the brief moment of shared understanding. It was his job to know everything about everyone and yet none of these people around him knew much of anything about him. The entire school thought he was unfeeling and mean and a snob. He certainly seemed that way, so why should they wonder?

It was utterly useless to think on it, there was nothing for it after all. This was his lot and he had too much class to whine. So he gathered these thoughts and feelings and locked them in to a box that he shoved in to a corner of his mind. He strengthened his walls and cleared his mask and he walked to the doors of the great hall- and stopped. And stared.

There was Potter, in his pajamas of all things, and they were horrid. Too large and faded and he looked ridiculous. The small Gryffindor stood on side of his house table, across from the group he normally sat with. The entire tables was filled, where there wasn't a person sitting there were book-bags or piles of books or conveniently placed feet. No one moved.

Potter wasn't looking at them though, he was staring directly at Longbottom, Finnegan, Thomas, Granger and Weasley.

"Very funny. Locking me in the dorm. Can I sit and eat please? I'll leave when I'm done."

"I think it's obvious if you're wanted here or not." That was the Weasel.

Granger's cheeks reddened, Draco could see it from here, she turned to Potter apologetically. "He's not being serious."

"_Are _you being serious?" Lavender Brown simpered, arm attached to the ginger.

"Actually, I _was_ being serious." He leaned over the table, staring up at Potter. "You're not wanted here."

Potter's face looked like it was on fire. The other houses were staring. One of the Patil twins, who'd taken to sitting with her sister at the Gryffindor table during meals, looked embarrassed but she didn't say anything, her sister looked like she wanted to crawl underneath the table for Potter and hide. That's what the boy certainly looked like he wanted to do. The rest of them were staring at their plates or their hands or the ceiling. Someone snickered. Then another. The picture of humiliation for one entire moment, a mask slipped into place for Potter. The boy turned and left out of the hall, very quickly. Granger stood and chased after him.

The Gryffindor table burst into laughter.

Draco stood there watching, far more surprised than his impassive face would ever hint at. He nodded at Theo who nodded back and led the rest of the group to the table. He knew, rationally, that it wasn't his place. He wasn't friends with Potter, they hardly went a day without fighting, with magic or otherwise. They had their conversations, secret ones, but they never brought them up after they happened. Regardless his feet turned and he was following after the to lions. Eventually he heard voices down a narrow hall. There in the middle he could see Granger,m just barely in the shadows, talking into a small cut-out supply closet. No doubt Potter had taken refuge there to try and be alone. Granger didn't seem to care what Potter wanted, if what she was saying was anything to go by.

"You brought this on yourself you know. You painted a big red target on your back, you really have no right to be so surprised they shot an arrow at it. You know what you need to do don't you? I know they shouldn't have done that and Ron really shouldn't have said...what he said." she winced. "If you want to fix this you're just going to have to suck up this bit of rebellion, whatever the cause of it, and go make amends. Laughs at their jokes. Insult Malfoy. Defend Ron. Agree with them. You're going through something right now, I suppose, but the rest of the world doesn't care to wait around for you to have an attitude adjustment and people like Ron don't have the patience. He will never admit to being wrong Harry, certainly not like this. You're not making it easy for him. So...so just suck it up. This is your life. You need to smile and get with the program."

Draco leaned to the side, Potter say with his arms wrapped around his legs, chin on his knees, eyes on the floor. "Be careful _friend_. I don't know if I'm prepared to forgive myself if I have to hurt you back."

"Hurt me back? How am I hurting you?"

"You're killing me with a smile and good intentions," green orbs looked up at her through inky bangs, "did you know?"

Granger was taken aback. "What?"

"You tell me it's for my own good. You think you know me better than I know myself and you think being my friend gives you the right to make my choices for me and to know my secrets and tell me what to do. You're forcing me to be someone I'm not and to hide the person I am on the inside. It's a subtle sort of murder but it's killing me all the same."

The brown haired girl looked distraught now. Guilt didn't sit well with her, Draco thought.

"Don't think about it too much if you can't stomach it. Everyone else is killing me too."

She didn't know what else to say to that, because she asked a question instead of countering Potter's claim.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Granger's voice rough and low.

"Because, said Potter, "sometimes we have to dare to be ourselves, no matter how frightening or strange that self may prove to be. Both in my case."

"I hope it's worth it." She probably meant it.

Granger turned and walked down the hall. Draco stepped back and let her pass, letting out a breath when his presence went un-noticed.

"Malfoy?" Or not.

Draco took a step forward into the limited light of the only candle along this hallway. Potter sat just as he had before, to the right of the small supply cupboard, on the floor. His pajamas were probably getting really dirty now. Not that it made much of a difference with clothes like that.

Potter looked up at him. "It's strange I guess. They're my friends. But everything I'd like to talk about I can't say to them. I feel so separate, like I've touched something that's taken all the colours out of these things I used to belong to. I can't even pretend to see them anymore."

Draco took that as an invitation and stepped forward into the storage cupboard. It was very small, it was good Potter was as well. Draco could barely stand upright in it. "How do you feel about that?" He asked, feeling like a mind healer. He was a bit out of his depth here. Malfoy training didn't include consoling rivals.

"I'm wondering if it's best if you don't have anyone you care about. Then there isn't anyone to hurt you, is there? You don't have to be afraid of losing someone if you haven't anyone to lose."

Draco slid down the wall across from him, knees bent in the small space. "Yes. But then you have nothing."

"That's what I had to being with. It's comfortable. I don't know that I mind going back."

"You do mind. If you didn't you would have done it the first time you had the opportunity. You would have certainly done it second year. But you didn't, you chose to keep caring. There must have been some reason. You must have thought it was worth it." Draco tried. He was a little alarmed.

"It isn't that I thought it was worth it, it's that I wasn't willing to go back to nothing. This pain was something, even if it was pain, and anything was better than nothing. But now...now I miss nothing. I don't want to hurt anymore."

"Nothing is over-rated. It keeps your head clear and it keeps people at a distance but you'll never be happy. You can't be happy when you have nothing. Awards and galleons and large houses with empty rooms can never fill the spaces inside of us that ache against our will. Some of us choose this path. You don't have to be one of them."

He shifted, looking away from Draco. "You seem fine with it."

Draco stared. "What."

"You're enveloped in ice Draco. Even if someone wanted in, they'd have to dig through layers of _solid _ice. It's been there so long I wonder if you've ever known a day without it. The walls of ice." Hesitant eyes met his face.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

He put a small tan hand on Draco's arm, looking away again. "Yes I do. I can see it. You've been this way since the day I met you."

Draco forced a laugh. "You sound so reasonable for someone who's just been thrown out of their house and ridiculed in front of the school. Why don't you get angry? You should hit a wall or something."

"I did."

He swallowed. "Ah, my walls of ice you mean."

Potter nodded.

And then Draco felt the start of a very tiny crack in his mask.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating**: T. For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

**AN: **In my world Percy decided to deal with the history of ancient wizarding laws and regulations, rather than bow his head as a Ministry lackey. He's at Hogwarts working in the archives under the library, he helps do rounds, assists in classes and resides over detentions in exchange for the access. Percy's got his own room at the castle while he's doing his research. You'll be finding more about it later on but since he makes his appearance here I thought I'd give you a brief heads up about the change.

* * *

_What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead, got a hole in my soul going deeper and deeper_

_And I can't take one more moment of this silence, the loneliness is haunting me_

_And the weight of the world is getting harder to hold up_

_It comes in waves, I close my eyes, hold my breath and let it bury me...I'm not okay and it's not alright!_

_Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself?_

_Don't let me drown..._

* * *

His back was sore. Who knew sleeping on the couches for two nights in a row wouldn't agree with you? Harry pulled himself to a sitting position with a groan. He'd found out the reason he wasn't able to get out of the dorm, and the reason he couldn't find any of his things, was because all of it was piled against the door in the hall. Two nights of bringing everything in and putting it away only to have to find a way out of the dorm and retrieve his things apparently got boring for everyone else. Last night and the night before he'd been locked out of his dorm rather than in.

He glanced at his watch, he had time to get a shower and get down to breakfast before most of his house woke up. Or he would have of the door to the showers weren't locked. He took a step back and deep breath along with it. Fine. He'd just wash up in one of the bathrooms near the great hall. It was fine.

In a bit of highly unlikely luck, which pretty much was the story of his life, Ron's older brother ran into him just outside the portrait.

"Don't you usually shower now? You're always down at breakfast about a half hour from now..._why are you in your pajamas again?_ " His brow furrowed.

"Turns out, it's easier to do when you're allowed access to the showers. Just pretending to soap up doesn't do much, and actually stripping down and taking a sponge-bath in the common room, which is incidentally the only area of the tower I now have access to, seems like a good way to get into a lot of trouble."

Blue eyes glittered briefly. "Done that before have you?"

"I've thought about it. You know, just for the kicks. You only live once and all that jazz."

"Right, well we can't have fourteen-year-olds stripping whenever they feel like it. The world will wonder just what sort of school this is. There isn't even a high amount of Veela to use as a scape goat."

Harry tsk'd. "Tis a shame."

Percy glanced around the hall. "This way."

"Where are we going?"

"I have a key to the Prefect's bathroom. You can use it. It's better than the showers anyway. You won't miss them."

Harry glanced up at the taller boy shrewdly as they walked.

"How is it you've still got a key?"

"I...might have made a copy while I had the chance."

"Just so you could take a bath whenever you happened to be at the school?"

Percy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh. I see, you just wanted to see all of us hot teens un-clothed. Devious."

"And here we are!" Said Percy, his voice a bit higher, face red. He waved his wand and stepped through a floor length mirror.

Harry blinked, glanced around then followed him through. A red door was the only thing in the small room he found himself in. Percy unlocked it with the key and pushed it open.

"This is actually not in use anymore. It's functional, and there are students with keys...it's just a secret. You can get a copy made from the Slytherins if you're willing to do them a favour."

"Look at you go Percy, breaking and entering, working the Hogwarts black market, consorting with Slytherins..."

The older boy stammered a bit then left. Harry was still laughing when he slipped into the giant bath. Unable to resist he turned the knobs on all of the faucets and let the bubbles and water and oils go until the pool that called its self a bath tub was filled. Bubbles were everywhere. Harry loved it. The loud rushing sound. It could almost cover up the voices in his head, like white noise, he could almost drift away in it. Arms out he twirled up and down the steps leading to the bottom of the pool, the watering swirling around his waist, bubbles flying.

He spun.

_"You're not wanted here."_

He spun.

_"I think it's obvious."_

He spun.

_"Why can't you just be happy and smile?"_

He spun.

_"You're not wanted..."_

He lost his balance and when he flung out a hand to grasp the edge he felt nothing but water. His feet lost the bottom and he snapped his eyes open. The middle of the pool. After that moment of genius deduction his body promptly betrayed him by sinking like a rock. He thrashed, wishing he'd bothered to learn to swim, dying in bath tub was a stupid way to die.

Something pulled him up and pulled him forward until his feet touch tile again. He spit out water, rubbed at his eyes and opened them again.

"Of course you're the one to find me like this." He muttered.

"You idiotic Gryffindor, what are you doing the Prefect's bathroom?" Malfoy demanded, lowering his wand.

"...drowning?"

"Can't you do that in your own bathroom?"

Harry flashed him a cheeky grin. "Yes but then who would rescue me?"

The blonde stepped closer to the rip of the pool, slipped off his shoes and sat on the edge, his feet dipping along the first step. He looked at Harry then looked over to his clothes, pajamas and book-bag by the sinks, then back to Harry. "What's going on Potter?"

Harry sank lower in to the bubbles, ignoring him.

"I have all day. All of my assignments are finished, I can have Theo turn them in for me and vouch for my illness."

"Fine. They kicked me out alright? I can handle it."

"Kicked you out?" he knew, without looking, Malfoy would be playing with the small wisp of hair that always fell out of the gel and hung by his left eye, "I thought they were just being symbolic."

Harry shook his head. "Not so much. They've made it pretty clear I'm not welcome even in the dorms."

"What are they doing?"

He leaned against the nearest edge of the pool, looking anywhere but at the Slytherin. "When I wake up in the morning all of my stuff is gone and I'm locked in. I figured out that my stuff is what was blocking the door, they piled it all in the hall. The last two nights I was locked out of the dorm, which I suppose was a nice change of pace. I slept in the common room. When I got up to take a shower I'd been locked out of that too."

"Ah yes, there's nothing quite as refreshing as contempt."

"It doesn't matter."

Harry jumped when a pale hand was suddenly in his face. He looked up to see silver eyes looking down at him. "What?"

"Come on."

The hand grabbed his arm and pulled him from the tub. Harry yelped, embarrassed. "Draco!"

The blonde didn't reply, simply dragging him to the changing room, pushing him in and tossing him a towel. "Get dressed."

What to do? Bury his face in the towel in mortification, or keep it precisely where it was because Draco watching him impatiently? Tough call. "I, er, need clothes." He pointed past the blonde to the robe and slacks folded on the counter.

And of course Percy chose that moment to return. The older boy strode in, froze mid-stride and turned to them. His face flushed. Harry's did as well. "It's not what it looks like!"

Malfoy grinned. "What does it look like Potter?" His face the picture of fake innocence.

"Oh. So Malfoy _isn't _taking advantage of you?" Percy asked, face twitching in amusement.

Harry pondered how to answer that. Technically Malfoy _was _taking advantage of Harry's state of undress to get him to do what the Slytherin wanted, however he was pretty sure that _wasn't_ what Percy meant.

"You've caught me." A voice whispered much closer to Harry than before.

Harry blinked. "Wha- oof!" Malfoy swung Harry around and pressed him back against the stall wall. Harry tried very hard to spontaneously com-bust. It did not work. Malfoy, either oblivious or immune to Harry's wish to set himself to flame, took Harry's chin in his hand and stared deeply into his eyes.

"I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you."

Percy pulled him apart, rolling his eyes. "Alright, enough, would you two be serious?"

"Oh we're _very_ serious." Malfoy purred.

Harry face palmed.

"Merlin it's like another Fred and George. Harry, I've a place for you to..." Percy trailed off.

"Oh, it's fine. He knows."

"Right. Well I have a place you can stay until your house-mates decide being ignorant morons isn't as fun as it sounded."

He bit his lip, then smiled. Percy didn't have to do that, it was surprisingly nice. "Thank you."

"Let's see this new place of yours." Sniffed Malfoy, he was obviously looking forward to telling Harry everything that was wrong with it. The blonde and Percy walked out the door. Harry stood there, calm, and counted down in his head from five. They both walked back in.

"My clothes please?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Blame it on the work day, blame it on the weekend, blame it on the tic-tock moving too slow_

_Blame it on any old thing you want to_

_Don't want to wait 'til the sun's sinking, we could be feeling alright_

_I know you know what I'm thinking, why don't we do a little day drinking?_

* * *

The room was large and filled with nothing but rugs, plush blankets, cushions and pillows of various sizes and three boys. After a short explanation of how the room worked, Potter paced in front of a bare bit of wall, instructed by Percy Weasley to think of something comfortable, since no one knew how long he would have to stay there. Potter took it a bit more literally then intended.

"I almost wish there was a derivative of _Veritaserum _available...this isn't exactly a failsafe method you know."

"What do you mean?"

Draco rearranged himself on his giant cushion so he could see the other two.

Potter, who lay on his back and was staring at Percy upside down, gave an odd hand gesture.

"Are you attempting to communicate or is he meant to steal second?" Draco inquired.

Green eyes rolled. "I just don't think it's quite as effect as it's believed to be. For instance, the whole point of using it is to divine whether someone is guilty or innocent of whatever they happen to be accused of, agreed?"

"Yes." said Percy.

"Alright, well, what if they skipped any actual interrogation, the control questions and motivation and all of that, and just asked the straight question?"

"What about it?"

Potter let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. "Okay here is a scenario for you. Imagine someone is asked if they killed someone else? And that person answers yes, not because they were directly responsible but because of an action or inaction on their part that allowed the death to occur? They _believe_ they are responsible, so they say yes. In this case, because it appears to be a confession, and you wouldn't normally assume someone confessing to murder was lying for kicks or something, might it be possible to assume the authorities will take that at face value?"

Percy sat up. "Skipping the _Veritaserum _and a proper trial altogether."

"Exactly. It's both true and not true, isn't it? They did answer the question honestly, they believe the answer they gave to be true, but they didn't give the answer the questioner was looking for. How would anyone _know? _For that matter, using the _Veritaserum _has issues. You can say 'Why did you push Mr Smith on to the train tracks?' And under Veritaserum one could say, within the confines required by the _Veritaserum _its self, that it was because their arms moved forward and the strength of their arms plus their velocity caused Mr Smith to fall on to the train tracks. Technically they _are _admitting to murder, but also, technically they _aren't. _It could have been an accident, but no one asked if was an accident, only _why it was done._ There ought to be a potion that still contained the compulsion to tell the truth without forcing you to give the _literal _answer to the question. Something that forces you to tell the truth as you honestly believe it to, not what you tell yourself you believe and not just answer exactly what you are asked...it allows you to understand what the questioner actually _wants_ to know so your mind can select the appropriate response."

Draco sat up as well. "That's... a good idea actually."

"Wait, how would you make this potion? The recipe for Veritaserum isn't something you can look up in the library or pick up at the local Apothecary. And those licensed to make it aren't going to give you some just because you promise, as fourteen year olds, you have no ulterior motive for it." Percy folded his legs under him and leaned forward.

The smaller Gryffindor chewed his lip. "Oh! We reverse engineer it."

"What."

"You know, we think about what it looks like and what it does and we try to figure it out from what we know, altering it as needed to suit our purposes. There's no law against that is there? Because we aren't trying to make _Veritaserum_, we're making something up."

They looked at Percy.

"What?"

"You're the resident barrister in training," he drawled, "so tells us. Is Potter's idea good or...?"

The red-head tilted his head and thought. "You are studying OWL level courses in school now, to prepare for OWLs at the end of next year, that's old enough to apprentice, and _they_ certainly experiment. You need a witch or wizard of legal age to observe you as you work, to give you a bit of supervision. The testing of a Potion's Master to _verify_ the use of your finished product would be required. And an Auror will need to be present anytime you administer it until its properly patented and of course if you're going to test it on minors. Since you'll probably be testing it on yourselves you'll definitely need one at some point."

Potter glanced at him. "Will this count enough as extra credit to please your Godfather?"

"I should say so."

Apparently the room sensed their desire to begin straight-a-way. Bookcases started lining the far wall, shelves lining the wall to their left and a long table and brewing station came to being in the far corner.

"Wicked."

"Hold on." Draco eyed the Weasley boy for a moment. "You act as a sort of quasi-teacher's aid sometimes, will that inhibit you from helping us? Because I refuse to do all of this work and then get a _zero."_

Percy smiled. "I haven't once been told not to help the students cheat."

"Good enough for me."

"Are these bare elements?" Potter stood by the shelving, examining small jars.

"What?"

"That's becoming a catchphrase." Muttered Percy.

Harry turned with a jar in his hand, "I'm holding Sodium immersed in Kerosene."

Draco and Percy half-tackled one another to get to Potter.

"No bloody way."

"Are we certain there's no known ingredients for _Veritaserum? _Because this is potentially dangerous, playing around with this stuff."

Draco was to busy calculating the galleons in Harry's hand alone to answer.

Percy cleared his throat. "All that I know off the top of my head, is that _Veritaserum _is a clear liquid, not easily distinguishable from water, including its lack of a taste or smell."

"Is Water, Magic and Vodka out of the running?"

The older boy patted Potter on the head like a pet. Potter scowled.

"Actually..." Draco trailed off, flicking through ingredients and side effects in his head. "Ethanol is useful for affecting the _anterior cingulate cortex."_

Potter's eyes lit up. "And impaired judgment can help with a compulsion to create a knee-jerk response to answer questions before thinking about it."

"Yes and that wouldn't give them enough time to colour their response with personal bias."

"They'd give the response they actually believe."

Percy frowned. "Guys?"

"A blood alcohol content of point-oh-four can impair judgment." Potter recited, tapping his fingers against his arm, pacing. Draco decided to wait to ask him how he knew that.

"_And_ your ability to realize you've said something that maybe you shouldn't or wouldn't want to say normally."

"Yeah, exactly."

"_What does that mean?" _Percy interjected.

Draco huffed. "It _means_ we're temporarily switching off the part of brain that says 'oops' and lets you know you made some sort of a mistake."

"We need more than that though. We need something with Sedative properties, like with _Amortentia _remember? That sort of relaxes you and makes it so you don't realize you're doing something you don't want to. More than just suppressing judgment, we want them to want to tell us, we want them not to wonder why were asking the question."

"Guys?"

"Crushing up muggle pills will make it thick, and using similar potions will colour it."

Potter nodded, "We don't want that anyway. We ought to use plant extracts. That will be easiest to prevent colouration and it won't noticeably thicken the end substance."

"Guys?"

"Alright," Draco flickered through his memory quicker, bringing up possible ingredients_, "Nightshade, Henbane, Datura, Angel's Trumpets_-"

"_Corkwood_." Potter called, small jars in his hands, looking through the ingredients.

"Guys!" Percy looked between them. "I want you both to know, I have no idea what you're doing. Why do you need to control their judgment why not just-"

Draco waved a hand. "I understand that abstract concepts are foreign to you, but big boys are talking right now and you need to be quiet." Percy pouted.

"Not too much on the sedative side, we don't want the blatant glazed look." Potter placed his jars on the table.

"Agreed. If we're going to test it out, we can't have anyone aware."

"Wait a minute boys, I can't let you walk around experimenting on your fellow students."

"Fred and George do it all the time." Potter pointed out, crossing his arms petulantly.

"And how many people end up going to the hospital wing?"

"Er...a fair few."

Draco scowled. "Can you_ be _anymore Lawful Good?" He was disgusted.

"Oh, he isn't." Said Potter slowly, a smile blooming over his face. "Percy if you tell anyone what we're up to I shall tell Professor McGonagal that you retain a key to the old Prefect's bathroom in order to spy on us poor innocent children. That will in turn get it sealed off and I imagine the Slytherins will be displeased," he paused, "And I'll owl your mother."

The Red-Head's face flushed, he cleared his throat and averted his eyes, making a 'carry on' motion. "What are you guys going to do about flavour?"

They turned and looked at the older boy, then each other. The Gryffindor tapped his mouth, "I guess we could always get creative. You know, mix a bit, whatever the best amount is, into ice cream or tea or candies..."

Draco wrapped his arms around Potter and squeezed him tight.

"Oomph!"

"If I said I think I love you, even though half the time I can't stand you, and honestly enjoy hexing you whenever the opportunity presents its self, would you take it the wrong way?"

"Don't worry Draco, I know you're just using me for my mind."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. _Synonyms:_ opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions?** Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Mr know it all, well ya think you know it all but you don't know a thing at all_

_Ain't it something Ya'll?_

_When somebody tells you something about you, think that they know you more than you do_

_So you take it down, another pill to swallow_

_So what, you've got the world at your feet and you know everything about everything_

_But you don't_

_You ain't got the right to tell me, when and where to go, no right to tell me_

_Acting like you own me lately_

_You don't know a thing about me_

* * *

Waiting for Draco to return was revoltingly excruciating for Harry. That blonde bastard just had to leave right then didn't he? And now Harry could only gaze longingly at the work he wasn't allowed to touch until the Slytherin returned. Releasing a frustrated growl Harry stalked to the opposite desk, upended his book-bag and began rifling through the research. he'd brought with him. Perhaps putting it back in order would keep his mind preoccupied. It was only a small piece of it, he hadn't had the time to stalk up to the fourth year dorm and dig through the pile of belongings he knew would be jumbled carelessly together, strewn across the room in a show of his housemates disapproval. It was only by chance he'd had his book-bag with him from the night before, a set of clothing and his books for the day already within it. He couldn't imagine his partnership with Malfoy would be enough to stymie Snape's rage if Harry came to class without his books.

The unfortunate side effect of Harry's sort of luck was that it was always quickly followed by something much worse than what he was rescued from. Through out the day after the trio left the room Harry was currently thinking of calling home, he'd spent the day, each class, each moment in the hallways casting his eyes about for the impending doom he knew would come. In response Malfoy kicked him in the shins during Transfiguration and threatened to stick his eyes shut and place him in a body bind if he didn't stop behaving like a lunatic.

Nice to know he was cared for.

Even that distraction was momentary though and his two conspirators continued absence only agitated him. He needed them here to keep his mind focused on things other than wondering whether he'd have to form his own house soon.

"Harry?"

His back immediately stiffened.

It was the tone of voice, rather than the use of his first name that caused the messy haired Gryffindor to turn away from the paperwork spread on the table before him awaiting his organization, shoulders hunched, to the boys behind him.

Percy looked very sorry for him. Malfoy didn't look at him at all, staring fixedly at a spot somewhere over Harry's shoulder with a dark calculating gleam to his eyes.

That didn't speak well for Harry.

The taller of the two took a hesitant step forward, bringing an arm from behind his back. "I'm sorry but-"

Harry stared at the book in the ginger's hand, his fellow Gryffindor's words turning to hazy fog in Harry's mind, drowning beneath the muted sound of a radio with no proper station's frequency assigned to it. An ordinary book from the outside. It was the inside, as always, that mattered. Once a collection of experiments combining magicks and science by a half-blood called Stephen Hawking. Signed.

If one had opened the tomb before today they would have found semi-blasphemous notes along every margin in the violet ink Harry owl-ordered second year. It was the ink he'd used with Tom Riddle's diary. Harry had never been able to get rid of it, he sort of felt that by keeping it he was owning and acknowledging his resentment and memories of the time, a time so similar to now, where the world seemed to turn against him simply for being himself. Looking at the torn, stained article of literature before him, Harry felt a little something, that he was certain was once a bigger something, get even littler. Tighter.

Colder.

"Am I right in guessing there is more than this?" His voice was very quiet.

Percy nodded. Malfoy continued his examination of the far wall, his use of Harry's name to get the Gryffindor's attention his only contribution to the conversation it seemed.

"I see."

The boys began to fetch his belongings, his precious books and magical pictures, games and quills and and research, from places like the inside of a jinxed suit of armor or a filled sink of what probably wasn't water in the washroom. Bit by tiny bit he found them all, placing them carefully, though now it hardly mattered, into a small pile. Most of his clothing, the first articles of clothing that were truly his and not resentful cast offs from the Durselys, were ruined beyond even magics ability to repair.

Harry had known, of course, that his treatment at the hands of his house wouldn't suddenly disappear simply because he had removed himself from their presence...but he had hoped. And he had not believed, with Ron knowing what these things meant to him, that any harm would come to his belongings.

Harry had almost nothing left.

"I'm sorry Potter." That was the older Gryffindor.

"Yes, you've said."

It wasn't Percy's fault, and he was only trying to help, but repeating how sorry he felt didn't help anything at all. It only reminded Harry that there was something to be sorry about and that Percy's brother, Harry's closest friend, had done it.

The three of them, a Gryffindor, a scholar and a Slytherin, gathered about a pile of seeming rubbish, not talking, was how Dumbledore found them. The old wizard paused in his steps, his whistle slowing to a less cheery tune. Harry couldn't much blame him, after all they were stood around his ruined possessions like mourners at a funeral. In the middle of the hallways no less. None of them looked up to greet him or even acknowledged him which may have been what cemented his interest in the odd scenario. Without a word of his own the headmaster placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and stood beside him, taking it all in and figuring out what might have happened. Harry knew, as did everyone else, that Albus Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards of all time. His mind was brilliant, his magicks talented in several categories, his deeds numerous, his discoveries renowned. This man knew what was taking place in his school, just as he had known Harry was sneaking a dragon to the top of a tower in first year. So, the question running through Harry's head in time to the slamming of his heart, was not why nothing was being done. Nothing was done in second year. It was why he _chose_ to do nothing. Did he think it would only make things worse if he intervened? Did he think Harry could manage it on his own?

Percy cleared his throat. "I'll fetch McGonagall."

"That won't be necessary."

"Sir?"

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and Harry tilted his head to show his attention to the conversation.

"I believe, Mr Weasley, that I have found a solution that will in the end be best for everyone."

Without explanation he used the hand on Harry to steer him down the hallway. They made their way through the castle, the route was familiar enough that Harry let his feet go on automatic and let his mind wander. Until, as they ascended the spiraling staircase to Dumbledore's office, the man began to speak.

"Human progress," he began, holding the door open for Harry and motioning him within, "is neither automatic nor inevitable. Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering and struggle, the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals."

Harry slipped from his grip and sat on the lone chair before the headmasters grand desk, scattered as it was with odds and ends and things he couldn't define. It was, perhaps, the most unorganized looking bit of furniture he'd ever seen. Coming from the fourth year boys dorm, that was certainly saying something. But Harry had also seen, on more than one occasion, the sharp glint in the old wizards eyes when flickering through his thoughts for the best course of action. Nothing this man did was spontaneous or a bout of whimsy as he'd have the world believe. The desk was messy on purpose.

And that summed up Dumbledore entirely, to Harry's mind.

"My boy, I understand that things have been difficult for you lately. Your little spat with Ronald has escalated farther than what the student body is used to. Even I hear the murmurings and rumours. Harry. Why have you chosen to instigate negative relations with your friends?"

He didn't know what to say,s o he didn't say anything.

"That speech you gave in class was well researched." Dumbledore tried.

Harry nodded.

"You must know, in the world we live in, we must sometimes do things we would rather not do. We must sometimes hold our tongues and swallow our pride and let the little things go. Was it truly so important for you to act out? You've never been so rebellious in class before, which is quite the achievement according to our Potions Master. You understand, as Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-lived there will be certain expectations of you? Certain requirements? You've done so well so far Harry."

"Yes but, once in a while...I don't know. I feel so close. So close to the edge. Like if I allow myself one small misstep I'll plunge away and never come back. I'll lose myself."

The professor looked very sad then. "You were never yours to begin with Harry. It is hard to deal with, but the truth of the matter is the wizarding world has always and will always see you as an icon. A symbol. A celebrity. A shield. You've never been a real person to them. You are...merely a fourteen year old boy. I know it. You know it. The world does not care, they will allow you no leniency to do things they have not expected you to do. Our roles have been slotted to the appropriate frame for our life's tapestries and the world will suffer no deviations."

He swallowed. The professor was only confirming all of Harry's fears.

"I can't go back to that." He rasped. "I can't go back to pretending all of the time. To walking around like an alien in someone else's body. I can't do it please don't make me sir."

A weathered hand patted his right arm. "I know my boy, I know it is hard. This is why I have chosen to help you."

The tightening sensation around his wrist alerted Harry that something was happening. His eyes snapped up to see a leather wristband clasped about his right wrist. Magic pulsed within it for a moment then faded.

Harry rose to his feet. "What the Hell was that?"

Dumbledore raised both hands. "Now listen Harry. Calm down. I'm trying to help you. This is just going to make things a little easier for you my boy. Easier to do what you must, easier to live the life you've been given." Harry's mind focused. The Come and Go room. He and Malfoy could easily figure out how to remove-

Pain seared through his veins, startling him. His hands grasps the sides of the desk to keep himself upright.

"S-sir?"

"It is a behavior conditioning cuff. It is used to help remove bad habits and instill good thoughts and behavior into the wearer. I think you will find it useful in your current situation. It makes people nervous, when one such as yourself, already so uncommon in your strengths and your birth, does things unexpected. They don't know what to think Harry and they sometimes start to make rash choices that can result in someone getting hurt. I only wish to protect you."

"I hardly think this is necessary. I was handling it on my own, not well granted but I don't _want_ to go back to the way it was."

"There are more important things than the dramas of a single life, Harry. What do our individual petty desires, insecure fears or fleeting feelings really measure against The Greater Good? Sacrifices must be made, by all of us, at difficult junctions in our lives. More so by those of us whom are thrust into the spotlight of the world's favour, however fickle it might sometimes prove to be. We do not get to change who we are, run away or hide. That was not a path woven for us in our fate's tapestry. I would like to tell you that none shall regret these choices more than I, the choices of putting the worlds good before my own, but I know you of all people understand the feeling precisely. And that pains me greatly, my boy. This is a necessary evil, as one might put it. Reinforcement to keep ourselves on our path and the tapestry's design as it is meant to be. After all, we can not allow the darkness to overcome the light."

Harry, face tilted down, fringe covering most of his face, studied the bracelet on his arm. A single finger of the opposite hand tracing it, solidifying it into reality.

Dumbledore's words sinking little teeth into his mind.

"It is good you have done this without waiting for my permission." He said, finally, in a voice the Professor had never heard from him. "I would not have given it."

"Now my boy, I am certain with time, and a change of perspective, you will come to see-"

The younger of the two looked up through his lashes and just made out the form of the old man across from him, smiling, he was sure, in his grandfatherly way, and he nodded, effectively silencing the headmaster. "I believe I am already having that change of perspective sir."

_...already so uncommon in your strengths and your birth..._

Walking down the spiral staircase outside the headmaster's office, some part of him suddenly believed, assuredly, and miserably, that the wizarding world, and Dumbledore, had sent him away because they were afraid of him. Like some monstrously deformed child who should never have lived beyond infancy, or a conjoined twin whose other half died under the knife. He had -simply by surviving- become a freak of nature.

_Freak._

* * *

**AN:**

Salutations everyone. I apologize for taking so long to post for you. For those who don't know, the files I had the chapters for the stories written in became unreadable (corrupted). I'd select it but none of the documents within would show any of the writing previously contained on them. I am _so_ sorry. I have finally manged to catch back up to where I was, it took a while for me to rewrite all of it.

I hope you can forgive me and you enjoy the rest of the story, this and the others.

**-Pseudo**


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Thoughts that sit in here fall like bullets to the floor, your heart is pulling me, the cut runs deeper as it flows_

_Scars that cannot heal, the hurt is covered to the bone_

_I'm selfish and I'm cold and I feel like the world is ending_

_Faithless and I'm fallen again_

_Cause I'm selfish and I'm cold and I feel like we're all pretending_

_Careless and I'm lonely again_

_And I am torn on the inside, the trust is dead in me, walls close higher all around_

_The cross I can not bear feels like pressure coming down_

* * *

Draco's eyes narrowed at the sight of Potter among the Gryffindors, handing out imitation laughter like sweets as if all of his 'friends' former cruelties and wildly irrational behavior was imagined. The little Gryffindor hadn't sent a note to him to tell him of Dumbledore's solution so Draco had contented himself with waiting until they were back in the Come and Go room to find out. This wasn't part of the plan. Potter may have been among them once again but the boy could never _be _one of them. Potter had always known it, Draco had always known it. He was doomed to be an outsider gazing in at the Gryffindors, endlessly tormented by his inability to properly belong, while they carried on oblivious to his inner turmoil. These red swathed, hard-headed icons of nobility who knew their savior so little they were immune to the false, flat tones of his voice, the dull gloss of his eyes and the mechanical movements of his body. _Was he happy? He was smiling. He looked happy. So what did it matter?_

If there was a way to encapsulate everything Draco detested about Gryffindors it would take the form of a picture of the scene before him. It would need no caption to the trained eye. Disgusted, he pushed his goblet from him delicately, set his untouched salad aside and sat there as still as the marble statue he was often accused of being. Draco couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could almost taste the wrongness. Potter sat further along the table, near the doors. He nodded and flashed insincere smiles when a response was required, his eyes on his plate. He never looked up or around even to see whom he was sat beside.

There was something ...off.

Draco Malfoy didn't just notice details, he memorized them, categorized them, picked them apart and examined them at length to learn their origins. Every gesture, every inflection, every word said or unsaid. All of it meant something, if you knew how to read it. He knew, for instance, that Harry _used_ to sit in the middle of the table, opposite Draco himself, with the more popular of the Gryffindors arrayed around him in a fashion the smaller boy didn't properly understand or, to Draco's inner Slytherin's exasperation, take advantage of. Having trusted people surrounding him made Potter feel safer, and it allowed him to see where they all were at any given time, often popping his head up to glance around and locate faces before continuing his meal. Whether he was making certain everyone was accounted for or if simply didn't wish to be left behind Draco had never been able to ascertain. Both seemed likely. He knew Potter would sit in a relaxed manner, limbs loose, legs wrapped around the bars of the bench beneath him, book bag thrust under it haphazardly which often leading to precious minutes wasted attempting to retrieve his belongings and catch up with his fellow Gryffindors. Relaxed and at ease.

Today? The other boy sat as close to the doors as one might without resorting to sitting on the floor. His body-language was rigid, his book bag fastened about his waist. He looked ready to bolt. No, to escape. Potter wasn't comfortable with the people near him and he didn't feel safe. Yet he _continued _nodding and fake-laughing and staring at his plate without eating what was on it. Chicken from what Draco could see, which was odd as Harry, like Draco, avoided meat. Potter because the food served here made him ill at the best of times, he was obviously used to a far different diet at home with his relatives. The house elves seemed to have caught on, there were always alternative options placed near him on the table. Toast or fruit or yogurt. Simple foods. Granger must have placed it there he decided, the chit was fond of mothering Potter poorly. If she used half of that brain of hers she'd notice Potter's revolted expression at the sight of it. Perhaps she did and thought she knew better than the boy what he needed? A lot of people did that and they were usually wrong, in Draco's view.

The blonde tilted his head to the right.

He noticed Potter wasn't actually talking to anyone, instead doing whatever he could to avoid any real conversation. His tightened fingers about his unused fork suggesting, once again, he'd rather be anywhere but where he was. It also suggested it was taking a great deal of will power for Potter to be there. He was focused. Draco didn't know what he was focused on but it certainly wasn't whatever inane conversation topic Weasley's minions were loudly hooting over. The raven haired teen hadn't once made eye contact. With anyone. He was avoiding it with an intensity that bellied fear. He was afraid of meeting eye contact, of initiating real conversation, of interacting.

Placing himself on automatic as well, Draco crept inward, his thoughts taking pieces of information and placing them in an organized fashion before Draco's inner eye. Patterns of behavior connecting to recent events connecting to individuals involved in these events, an intricate web woven of collected information. It was quickly overlayed with another web, of possible motivations, emotions and influences._ There_. Draco paused and stared at the strands in his mind critically. From what he could reason, with what he knew, the behavior had a catalyst somewhere between the meeting with the headmaster in the hallway and Potter's entry to the great hall for dinner. This was predetermined behavior, meaning Potter had known he would sit with the Gryffindors and that he wouldn't like it before he came into the great hall and sat down. None of it was spur of the moment, nor was the choice to sit somewhere other than his usual spot. He wanted it clear he was unhappy with this situation. But whom was he relating those feelings to? It couldn't be Draco, Draco already knew Harry wouldn't be pleased with such a situation. There would be no need to prove it.

Silver eyes flashed to the side, scanning the teachers table. What, exactly, did Potter and the headmaster talk about? Dumbledore had mentioned having a solution to Potter's issue with his housemates. Did something convince Potter that making nice with the idiot Gryffindors would help him? It wasn't logical. Potter knew he'd have to pretend to accept Weasley's insincere apology and go on as if everything was okay if he did so, and Draco knew from direct conversation with Potter the other boy had no intention of forgiving the ginger unless he meant his apology. Potter hated living and pretending the way he had been and though the last week had been hard on the boy it was also sort of cathartic. To free himself, if only a little amount, from his self-made chains. So what could have possibly changed his mind? Why would he force himself to do this again?

Draco followed Dumbledore's pleased gaze, and he could tell it was pleased from the brighter than average twinkle to the old mans eyes and the non-faked cheery flush to his cheeks, to the Gryffindor table. To Harry.

Curious.

Potter's glass smashed into the floor, his plate over turned, goblet on its side, the small Gryffindor standing beside the table with his fists clenched and eyes shut tight. Trying, in vain, to get a hold on himself. Draco leaned forward, analyzing. What in Merlin's name was that about? Whatever happened he hadn't caught it, so it was no surprise everyone else looked confused about the boy's outburst. When Potter lifted his head and opened his eyes Draco gave a soft cough. Emerald orbs snapped to him. Draco raised a silver brow in inquiry.

The Gryffindor started to mouth something, trailing off almost as soon as he started, his body stiffening sharply and his teeth biting into his lower lip. And then utter stillness. His face cleared, body straightened, he turned his eyes away from Draco back to his fellow Gryffindors and he smiled.

Draco shivered. Is it possible, he wondered, in the final analysis, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another? To catch their life's vibration so solidly as to harmonize the sound? To see clearly shadows and crevices mirrored in one's own life experience so vividly as to feel stirrings of whispers of your own emotions in response? A dreadful feeling of understanding grew, watching Potter return to his seat, fixing his mess with fake clumsiness that appeased Granger and not once look Draco's way again. Fixedly staring at the table once more. The Slytherin tapped his chin, cataloging, labeling and analyzing. He looked through his information repeatedly but there was nothing there to shake the certainty, with every minute Potter sat over there robotically, something horrible was going to happen. Draco could hardly bare to look.

It was too much like staring through a jagged, distorted reflection of himself.

So much ice it burned.


	14. Chapter 14

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect, every action will bear a consequence_

_I see what's going down_

_Face down in the dirt, This doesn't hurt, Do you feel better now?_

_One day this world's going to end, as your lies crumble down_

* * *

Hermione knew there was a way to retain friendships after sore words were exchanged, but she didn't know the trick of it. The rule had been, one forgave one's friends their grievances simply because they were friends and one had to make allowances to keep friendships didn't they? It was safer to have friends than to go it alone. Everyone knew the rule. Everyone followed it. But not Harry. He had come into this magical world with a better grip in socialization than Hermione, but still an abnormal one. It was quite clear Harry was not used to large bouts of socializing, or indeed talking, and was often uncomfortable with physical or emotional intimacy. Oh he gave the correct responses, he grave a smile or a nod when he ought and he creased his brows to show confusion, gave a frown when he was displeased. You knew, generally, how he felt. It seemed to her, though she didn't dare bring it up it would be unspeakably rude, that Harry trained himself to respond appropriately with no real connection to the responses given. It wasn't that he didn't have feelings, she'd seen him annoyed and upset in fleeting moments, it more as if he didn't respond the way normal people did. He didn't get frightened for his life in dangerous situations, he didn't get offended when others would, he didn't laugh when others might. At first she guessed he simply had a different way of looking at things. But no. Even more clear now than it ever was, Harry was pretending.

Pretending to be happy or unhappy or whatever the necessary emotion was required for him to communicate with the people around him. The responses he gave was for their benefit. In reality, Harry felt differently than he expressed and what he did genuinely feel no one would ever know. He didn't share it. Harry kept his truest self locked within layers of rock and thorned bushes and high, slick walls. Was it because he didn't trust them? That hurt. He ought to trust them, they always went along with his dangerous escapades didn't they? And she hadn't told anyone about freeing his Godfather or that he blew up his aunt. They kept his secrets didn't they? No one knew about his home-life, what they knew of it anyway. He wasn't forthcoming about it.

_So, why..._

He just didn't make any sense! She growled, frustrated, and pushed her book away from her.

Across from her sits Harry, dark hair in his face, eyes focused on paperwork places before him that doesn't have anything to do with school, though he isn't sharing anything beyond that. Indeed, she'd only gleaned that much because she'd glanced at it and hadn't recognized a thing. It made her a bit put out honestly. She didn't know if she was more upset that Harry was obviously smarter than she'd known or that he was deliberately wasting his intelligence on things like Quidditch and befriending Slytherins.

Her breath left in a huff, a hand resting against her cheek. She studied her friend.

He was different. He had always been different, actually, but more so lately. While before his simply kept his true feelings watered down or hidden, now it was as if nothing reached him. Oh he was even better at socializing now but it was all so...automatic.

There was only one thing that produced a proper reaction anymore. She muttered a less than favorable remark about Malfoy and waited for it.

Harry looked up. "Leave it alone Hermione."

"I am just trying to understand this obsession with him Harry. Is it Malfoy specifically or do you thrill playing in the dark?"

"That depends on entirely your chosen definition of Dark."

"He's cruel." she listed, "He's underhanded, he's sneaky, he's rude. He's dismissive of anyone he doesn't think is important, he's called me a mudblood, he cheated to get on the Quidditch team.." She stopped, taking a breath, cheeks flushed. Apparently she'd been wanting to rant about him for a time now. Well, at least he was less likely to realize she was analyzing his reactions, she thought.

"I've never seen him be cruel." Said Harry, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully, "But I won't deny the potential. Sneaky? Yes. Very much so, but I think I'm a bit sneaky in some ways. What with the invisibility cloak and going about after hours on deadly adventures and all of that. He isn't rude. Draco is never rude. He's the politest person I've ever met actually. I wouldn't call him nice, but certainly not rude. He isn't dismissive of anyone in particular, he tends to treat everyone that way so thats more fairness than anything else I think."

She noted the odd pained expression that flitted across his face sometimes, the way he stiffened for a moment before relaxing. "And calling me a mudblood?"

Harry gave an unrepentant shrug. "He was bragging to me about getting on the team and his new broom an you just had to run up and insult him didn't you? He was twelve, of course he got defensive. And Draco's a smart guy, an observant guy, if he resorted to name calling it's because thats all he could find worthy of using as an insult. It's actually a compliment. You may have to squint at it a bit before you see what I mean though. His way of thinking is a bit off until you get used to it. He didn't cheat by the way. His father bought the broom for Draco so he could compete with my Nimbus 2000. He got the newest because Merlin forbid a Malfoy have anything last season." His lips quirked up at that, "and Draco made him get one for all of his team members so there wouldn't be any resentment on the team."

Ron, who'd walked up while Harry was talking, sat next to her. She quite hoped he was too surprised to have a go at Harry, she was certainly interested in the usage of 'Draco'.

Ron broke the silence. "How do you know all of that?"

The smaller Gryffindor blinked, as if it should be obvious. "He told me."

"What? That just came up during one of your duels? _Defendo!_ Oh and by the way, how'd you get on the team?" Asked Ron sarcastically, and a tad jealously.

"No. We talked about it in detention actually."

"You talk in detention?"

"What_ else_ is there to do?"

Hermione had to give him that one.

Ron scowled. "You could ignore the git."

Harry smiled at that. "It's hard to do that. He hates manual labor, as you can imagine it is foreign to him, and when he get's detention with Filch he _always_ makes him clean without magic. Malfoy will sit there and stare at the bucket like it's acid and Filch is trying to kill him. Then he'll whine about it softly. Then it gets a bit louder until I have to walk over and show him what to do. We usually end up talking after that."

She tilted her head and examined him. His eyes a bit brighter, his expression less forced, though he did flicker with pain. Odd...

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." She murmured. "Something is strange here."

"Why?"

Ron snorted. "You're asking why it's weird Harry Potter likes Draco Malfoy?"

Harry stiffened again, jaw clenched, one of his arms close to his side. "Yes. What do our names have anything to do with it? Why can't I just like him and let that be that?"

Ron, no doubt preparing to say something stupid, was prevented by Harry gathering his things and walking away.

_"Where are you going?"_ Ron demanded.

"To find Draco. Maybe learn some new curses, torture a Hufflepuff. All that jazz."

Hermione stumbled from her chair, catching him by the sleeve. "We just don't want him to get his claws in you Harry." She said it softly, but he tilted his head to let her know he'd heard her. Than he, gently, removed her hand and left them.

She stood there. What was she missing? Behind her Ron stomped off to do whatever it was Ron did these days. She hardly saw him anymore. And when she did she hardly recognized him. She knew, truly she did, that Ron meant the best. He was unbalanced from the sudden change in dynamic and it was partially his fault. If he'd left Harry alone Harry would have pretended to have forgiven him by know, as he usually did. But things were going on as they normally did, things were changing. Quickly. It was unnerving everyone, Gryffindor or not. Hermione bit her lip. She could say the same thing for Harry, she was learning things she'd managed not to know it four years and it was hard to understand why. Harry had always played his part so well.

A blur of white-blonde hair darted out of the dark corners of the library to her right, out the doors after Harry.

Her brown eyes narrowed.

She waited half a minute then followed after him. She didn't have far to go. Immediately outside the library Harry stood to one side, several Ravenclaws, covered in eagle feathers, were magically restrained beside him, looking incredibly embarrassed. Directly in front of her Malfoy stood over a first year Slytherin, sprawled on the floor sporting a bloody lip.

Malfoy tilted the boys chin and muttered a healing spell.

"Does it get easier?" The first year asked him, his voice a bit shaken. The Ravenclaws must have been picking on him, she guessed.

Malfoy considered the question before answering, seeming to take it very seriously. "Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving as we go along, we get stronger and more resilient. With every blow, every scrape, every close call, every mile on our knees, we grow. Our skin hardens and thickens, are knees become inflexible, we swallow pointless complaints and we stand again and again until we aren't afraid of falling anymore."

The first year rubbed his cheeks furiously, took a deep breath and allowed Malfoy to pull him to his feet. "I understand."

Hermione cleared her throat to draw attention to herself. She empathized with Malfoy's surprising sense of house loyalty however he should have sent for a professor, or at least a prefect.

"What happened?" she asked.

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look. "They," said Harry, nodding at the feathered Ravenclaws, "were giving the little one a hard time."

She let her eyes roam them, red faced and covered in thousands of feather. They were only second years after all.

"And this was the only way you could think of to resolve the situation?"

Malfoy whispered something to the first year who took off, in a run that was more of a walk because Slytherins didn't do things like run in the halls, and turned to her. "Well, first I thought about challenging them to a game of chess, but then I realized publicly humiliating them would be more emotionally satisfying."

He turned to look back at Harry who favoured the blonde with a smile. A real one.

For the first time Hermione _genuinely_ hated Draco Malfoy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**An:** This is a two part chapter in Draco's POV and it's quite a bit longer than my normal chapters for this story, even when it's cut in half. Additionally I just noticed it's the Fourth of July for you guys in the U.S, so I suppose you can consider this a present for it. Is that a thing? Well, its a gift regardless.

**-Pseu**

* * *

_Mayday, Mayday, this ship is slowly sinking_

_They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling_

_They're all around me circling like vultures_

_They want to break me and wash away my colours_

_We are one and the same oh you take all of the pain a__way, away, away_

_Save me if I become...my demons_

* * *

**Ch 15 pt 1 of 2**

"...a matter of changing the natural state into an unnatural form in complex transmutations. The original form remembers its self and resists the change, it requires attention to small detail as well as an understanding of the form of the desired result in order to make any significant process. In recent years it's been a topic of discussion concerning more delicate procedures involving created objects that are altered while remaining permanently fixed in the original form. The difference between this and a transfiguration involving an object already in existence such as a tea cup or one's body is immense. One must have intimate knowledge of ones creation and its inner working in order to 'fix' it and then alter it without breaking the form. This is not the same as conjuring a temporary construct such as a chair to sit in. A magical construct, such as in the case of the chair, uses a small piece of the conjurers magic to create a dense shape capable of sustaining weight for a limited amount of time. When it has served its purpose it is returned to its creators magical core and dissolve as if it never were. Our magic, being the valuable tool that it is, will remember this action and it will be easier to perform with each use. This is not the same, however impressive, as genuinely creating an article of magic with its own properties and purpose that lasts as long as desired by and according to rules designed be its creator, whereas a construct takes a constant toll on the performer of the magic as well as denies them a piece of their magic. When an article is created it becomes its own entity independent from but still very much connected to its creator. Thus in diagram two on the board you see the line indicating the will and desire of the user forcing its need through the focus, our wand, in order to shape the magic into the proper tool necessary for this achievement. There are many ways one might go about doing this and it depends highly on your affinity, strength, stamina and talent. Anyone can learn the basic workings of creation and many can dabble with the idea however known creations of this exact nature have been unstable. The theory is sound and there are many arguments surrounding its possible uses and the correct techniques used to initiate a viable result. If you look to the third diagram..."**  
**

Draco waited impatiently for McGonagol to get on with it. He took the night class for Spell-crafting, his family had an trait for it, twice a week since first year and they'd covered creation theory last November in third year. Hearing her prattle on about the simplest possible explanations of it was a waste of his time. Beside him Pansy had her nails painted by an ever stoic Blaise. Zabini took the class with him, Pansy just wasn't interested. He supposed at leasts he was doing something with her time. Most of the people in this class wouldn't be able to grasp the subject let alone get to the point they could experiment with it, it required a great deal of mental discipline and after that there weren't many who had the power and the stamina to attempt creations of their own. This was an attempt to keep them informed of changes in magic, of which, as Potter so articulately put it, there were few. What it came down to was a class project instructing them to define creation and write out a hypothetical experiment to be submitted to the professor at the end of term showcasing their understanding of the topic as well as the fundamentals of Transfiguration at the end of the year. An obnoxiously long project in a sea of other projects coming their way. The years prior to OWLs and NEWTs were notorious for this.

He glanced across the aisle and three seats back where Potter sat with Granger. He too wasn't giving the class his full attention, choosing instead to read a book on an entirely different subject. Beside him Granger was painted with disapproval. He studied the Raven haired Gryffindor, taking in his alternating stiff and forced relax posture, the tightening of one of his fists and constant clear expression on his face. He did show glimpses of anger or amusement but, Draco noticed, any large or excessive emotional responses were cut off with an immediately ramrod straight posture, hardening eyes and his face smoothing its features. It was curious. He was no closer to discovering the exact catalyst for this behavior than he was at dinner the night before, but that only heightened his interest. Generally speaking Draco wasn't one for butting into other peoples business. He collected information sure but getting involved or taking an active interest wasn't a part of his operating formulae. Usually. As always Potter somehow managed to be a special case.

"...please choose a suitable partner for the project, I will come by and give you parchment with further details, and decide on your seating arrangement. I suggest you take your time and choose wisely. There will be no swapping of partners after today."

Draco looked back to Potter automatically. The Gryffindor looked right back at him, putting his shoes up on his desk. Draco felt his lips turn upward. Really, he called Draco stubborn. Granger's voice filled the air with familiar irritating tones, no doubt extolling the virtues of wooden furniture to Potter in hopes he'd remove his treat and treat school property with respect. It wasn't as if they sat in a transfiguration class at a magical school where the teacher could whip up an entirely new set of desks should the mood strike. He wasn't sure what one could possibly find to say about furniture that would go three minutes and counting but Granger was apparently a fan of wooden desks and thus had no problem spewing complimentary commentary on the benefits of its existence. Draco fancied he could see the precise moment Potter's eyes glazed over.

An especially shrill note made Draco wince._ Circe._

"She can be a bit much can't she?"

Draco looked forward and blinked. A Gryffindor with long dark hair stood before him, a book in her arms and other projecting a forced aura of confidence. He leaned forward, elbow on the desk, chin resting in his hand and gave her a soft smile. "Oh?"

She flushed and stared at him a bit vacantly. He cleared his throat.

"Oh! Well I only meant I wasn't sure how Harry tolerates it so well. I know she likes to say Lavender and I chatter a lot but at least we're not condescending. Especially with Harry, he's really much sharper than she gives him credit for, it must be frustrating."

Draco hummed non-committal response. The information was interesting and he ferreted it away immediately, but he refused to actively participate in gossip.

"Right." she muttered, shifting on her feet, "So, Malfoy?"

"Yes Patil?"

"I wonder if you would maybe like to-"

A whirlwind of black and red jumped over Pansy's newly vacated seat and placed its self between them. Potter grinned at him, utter unrepentant of the spectacle he was making of himself.

"Partners?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

Draco nodded, bemused. "Agreed."

Potter shot a look at the other Gryffindor that Draco couldn't see from where he was seated, then scrambled back to his old desk to retrieve his things.

"Another time Malfoy?" Asked Patil with an unreadable expression.

Draco pointed at the smaller Gryffindor who sped to and fro between desks moving objects rather than just shrinking them like anyone else would

"Honestly I doubt it. Possessive, that one."

Potter tripped over his chair spectacularly.

"You shouldn't say things like that." Came a voice from the floor.

Draco leaned over to see Potter sprawled on the floor inelegantly, cradling his head where it must have smacked the floor. "Are you coming up here anytime soon?"

"...give me a minute."

McGonagol stepped over the boy, placing the parchment outlining their assignment on Draco's desk. "Walk it off Potter."

Draco placed a hand over his mouth and snickered.

Potter sat up and glared at her back. "The concern for your students is inspiring."

"Alive are you?" Draco inquired.

The Gryffindor stood and sat in his chair the wrong way, wrapping his feet about the legs of it. "Miraculous recovery."

"Clearly. Here." He thrust a rather thick book at him.

Potter cursed, rubbing his stomach. "Why am I the designated book reader?"

"Because you read quicker than I do and take better notes. Just don't write in the margins this time, this isn't my book I borrowed it."

"It was an accident!"

"How do you accidentally write out a theoretical process for creating a poisoned apple in someone's book? I thought you were threatening me passive-aggressively."

Potter turned in his seat, green eyes glinting red. "Now that you mention it, your skin _is_ white as snow."

"Yes but you're the one with lips red as blood and hair like ebony not me."

"I don't look like a girl though."

Draco raised his hands. "Don't take your inferiority complex out on me."

"I don't have a-"

"Mr Potter!"

Potter whipped around to face front, a smile of ultimate innocence on his face. He drew his brows together in confusion and cocked his head. "Professor?"

She huffed. "For Merlin's sake. Class is over. Leave."

They gathered their belongings together, Draco shrinking his, and Potter once again swinging that horrid muggle bag about his shoulder. Walking from the class Draco reflected on his remaining schedule. Lunch, study hall and then a free period which could also be used for study hall. He ought to get an outline ready for their Transfiguration assignment. They had more time to finish work on that than they did their potions assignment which was due in a few days. It would be best, he thought, to know what they were doing for it and then leave it until they were finished with Potter's alternate truth serum, Then they could research until winter break and when they came back they could brainstorm experiments and their final idea. He gave a nod to himself. A fine idea.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes Potter?"

"Do you want to come with me to the Astronomy tower?"

Draco stopped and turned to him, brows raised.

Potter flushed. "To study."

"Thats what they all say you know."

"Do you want to or not Malfoy?"

"Fine. But lets have you get us some food from the kitchens then go directly up."

Potter blinked at him. "The last time I suggested getting snacks from the kitchens you told me it was improper behavior for someone of my status to go there and that you refused to encourage my ridiculous notions."

"Yes, well." He coughed.

"You just want to avoid the hall in case Parvati's poisoned our drinks."

"That did cross my mind."

"Fair point actually." Potter conceded.

Draco smirked, "And _you're_ suggesting a quick get-a-way because you don't want to participate in this farce you've got going with Gryffindor."

"You helped me."

"I aided you in learning the appropriate hexes to ward your trunk against Weasley and his idiotic cohorts because you _insist_ on having your trunk in the dorms with items you retrieve frequently so you can make appearances in the common room that further Granger's _delusion_ that everything is okay. This does not mean I endorse the idea. It's stupid."

"It keeps her off my back a little more, she'd be impossible if she knew I wasn't sleeping there."

"It isn't her concern either way. If she genuinely cared she'd notice you weren't sleeping there and she'd do something about the situation causing you to remove yourself. And anyway I wasn't referring to unnecessary trips to the Gryffindor tower I was talking about your show at dinner last night. Quit trying to avoid the subject. What the bloody _hell_ was going on?"

Potter stiffened violently, eyes hardening, face smoothing over immediately after as if nothing happened. He pulled Draco's arm and took them through a tapestry hiding a doorway to another hall. "This way. Come on." He grinned and sprinted down to the other end.

Draco scowled, fixing his robes, and followed quickly without running. Slytherins did not run through the halls like heathens, they moved with purpose. Potter stopped before a large portrait, did something to it and walked through a door just as Draco arrived. A moment later he popped out with a basket. They made their way to the main stairwell, the only stairwell with staircases from the main floor near the entrance hall to the Astronomy tower. It was dizzying if you looked up too long. The trip up was much less manic with most of the students either eating lunch or outside enjoying the last remnants of non freezing weather before Scotland attempted to kill them off with hypothermia. At the top they passed the balcony over looking the stairwell in favour of passing through the door beside it to the platform Astronomy classes generally took place on. Gray clouds dotted the sky on the horizon, a sign of less than sunny weather to come. They sat before the railing, brought out their books and their food and it was several hours, a second trip to the kitchens and one duel later that Draco brought it up again.

"Potter."

"Hmm?" The smaller boy murmured absently, finishing an equation.

"What's really happening?"

Potter froze for a moment, placing his parchment in his bag. He chose to look up at the sky rather than at Draco, as if the moon would give him a better answer than the truth.

"Nothing has happened. It's fine." He repeated, finally.

Draco frowned. "Pretending that everything is okay doesn't make it so. Life likes to throw things at us when we're least prepared for them and ignoring what's happened or refusing to deal with it, doesn't change the fact that it's there, hanging over you. Life isn't going to wait for you to do something about it, it'll keep on existing with or without your permission."

Potter winced, then stiffened, then growled to himself, clutching one of his wrists. After a moment, just as before, his face smoothed and his eyes grew hard and he seemed just fine. It irritated him though he wasn't sure why.

"Potter we live in a world that is beyond our control, and our life is in a constant flux of change. So we've got a decision to make...keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away, or start learning how to live within the rain."

"There's another option you know." Potter whispered.

"Oh?"

He nodded thoughtfully, then stood abruptly. "Yeah... Hey come with me." Potter grabbed his wrist, hauled him to his feet and headed for the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked when they reached the next floor down and he was no longer in danger of breaking his next.

"I'm going to show you door number three."

"What?"

"Muggle saying, don't worry about it." He pulled them through another tapestry and stopped at a portrait of woman in a horrid pink gown. "Death before cowardice/" He proclaimed.

The person in the portrait agreed. "Just so." And it swung open slowly.

"Never in the history of the world has dragging someone off to undisclosed locations with the phrase 'don't worry' reassured anybody..." Draco's eyes widened and he dug in his heels. "Where on earth are you taking me?"

"I have to grab something."

"Thats your common room isn't it?"

"Yes, but thats not where we're going. I need to grab some stuff from by dorm."

The blonde tripped through the portrait hole. "You're taking me to your room!?" Half of Gryffindor turned to look at this proclamation, then stopped moving entirely in order to gaze at them like fish.

Potter, oblivious, continued towing Draco through across the floor, up four flights of stairs and into a dorm decorated with eye blinding amounts of crimson and gold.

"What are you doing? Do you know what they're going to think?"

"Look out."

Draco ducked a flying Quidditch glove. "Watch where you're throwing things Potter."

"I'm trying to find something. Oh, here we go." He pulled out a small black rod of some sort, a packet of parchment and a cloak.

"What's so interesting about all of that that you had to ruin my reputation for it?"

"C'mere." Potter drew close to him and tossed the cloak over them.

"What are you..." He trailed off. "The invisibility cloak? I've been wondering where the devil you got one of these."

"It was my father's." Potter explained. He tossed some odds and ends back in his trunk, spelled it and grabbed his hand. "Come on, stay close." He grabbed Draco's hand and tugged him down the stairs. Draco cursed and tried to keep up without breaking an ankle.

"Quiet down too, invisible people don't yell at the top of their lungs."

"Are you seriously going to make it look like we disappeared into your room?"

"Who cares?"

"Who cares? _Who cares?_"

"Other than you I mean."

Draco spluttered, which was horridly embarrassing. Malfoys don't splutter. They made their way through the Gryffindor common room, which was far more difficult now as no one was frozen in morbid curiosity at the sight of Harry Potter taking Draco Malfoy to his room. Potter would be paying for that later. The smaller boy lead him through the castle and down stairs to the entrance hall. Walking toward the doors an alarm went off in his head.

"Potter, what time is it?"

"Er, ten. I think."

"That's after curfew. You better not get us caught. I'll tell Snape you kidnapped me."

"You're loyalty is admirable." Potter deadpanned. "Don't you have your night pass on you?"

_"Yes_ but I haven't got class tonight."

"We better not get caught then." He shoved the door open enough for them to slip through.

They both winced when it shut with a squeal. They didn't see Mrs Norris popping out of the rosebushes so Potter walked out onto the grounds. Draco cursed at the first fat drop of rain. Invisibility cloaks were not warded against the elements. The blonde detested getting wet. He held in a groan. Potter stopped. "Here."

Draco looked around. It was just a hill in the middle of the grounds. He could see the path leading down to the forbidden forest and the lake. Over to the right he could make out the Quidditch Pitch. Nothing to be terribly excited about however. Before he could make an appropriately snarky comment about Potter trying to get him to catch pneumonia, the raven haired boy pulled the black rod from his pocket Draco had seen earlier. With a wink at Draco, who was highly offended by the familiarity of the gesture, he whipped the invisibility cloak off, which made them even wetter Draco reflected, and depressed a button on the side of the rod. It shot out two feet more and quite unexpectedly the end fanned out into a arched circle. Draco stared at it blankly.

"Allow me to present, door number three." Said Potter, grandly. He swung it up so the arched circle was above them. The rain stopped.

Draco blinked and looked up. Muted pitter-pats sounded on the top. He smiled in spite of himself.

"Alright," he allowed, "I suppose there is a...door number three."

A small golden blur appeared in his vision. "Take that."

He grasped the golden ball between his thumb and forefinger. "What is it?"

"It's an insta-note."

"Ah," said Draco, "i should have known."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Its for short, quick messages when using the messenger snitch isn't prudent or when we're not within throwing distance."

He squinted at it. "It doesn't look nearly that impressive."

"Watch." Potter backed up and held up a similar ball of his own, close to his mouth and murmured.

Draco's insta-note didn't move or glow but the word message appeared on it. He passed a thumb over it and blinked. There were grooves making the letters rather than an illusion.

"Why physical indention? You'll run out of run far to quickly at this rate, unless you do it very tiny and even then it seems like a waste of energy to keep making them."

"I'm changing it, not the way you think. I was thinking about how one thing can be in two places at once, existing in both places simultaneously and I then I thought that, well, magic is something that connects us all isn't it? And the interconnectedness is how we do the things we do with magic, we take all of these things around us, heat or gravity or pressure or texture or what have you and we bring something for into being using these ingredients at our disposal. That in mind I formed this insta-note using a bit of magic I had of yours left over from-"

"You have my what?"

"-our experimentation with truth serums and a bit of my magic as well to create a connection between our signatures and then using your magic and mine I made a single golden ball tuned to our combined frequency."

"A single ball. It's one insta-note in two places, your hand and mind vibrating back and forth between our signature's frequencies at high enough rate to be both in my hand and in yours simultaneously. This the indents on the ball are technically already there and not there at the same time, and when I add a new message," he lifted his own to his mouth uttered a word, "it will replace the other message without actually taking anything away eliminating the need for excess magic to power the illusion of a message." He watched the word response form on the insta-note.

"Exactly."

"Brilliant."

Potter puffed up. "Thank you."

"But there's an issue."

He deflated. "What is it?"

I'm assuming that there's a double use for the connected magical signature as a security clause? When a signature not pre-established attempts to connect, or use, the the insta-note it 'ceases' as it only exists for the two of us with our combined frequencies, correct?"

"Yes."

"This is a good idea but it has flaws. For instance, my mother and father have similar signatures to my own, this phenomenon caused by our blood connection. Blood of course being the strongest sort of collected magic we have at our disposal. Similarly, as you can I have a distant connection through my mother's black blood and your grandmother's black blood, we have signatures that have similarly qualities. As such, hypothetically, if my mother or father tried to use my side of the insta-note they probably could, because the mix with your magic would result in a frequency comparable to our originally frequency in a way that would likely be accepted by the insta-notes and allow them to activate it. The only way to avoid such a possibility would be if our frequency were entirely unique."

Potter appeared to ponder this. "I have a solution."

Draco stared. "Really? That quickly? You've just solved an incredibly complicated magical problem in about thirty seconds?"

"Observe."


	16. Chapter 15 Part 2

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ Synonyms: _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN**: Here's the other half guys.

**-Pseu**

* * *

_I cannot stop this sickness taking over, it takes control and drags me into nowhere_

_I need your help, I can't fight this forever, __I know you're watching, I can feel you out there_

_You make everything okay, w__e are one in the same, you take all of the pain away_

_Don't let me go, __I need a savior to heal my pain_

_When I become my worst enemy, _

_The enemy_

* * *

**Ch 15 Pt 2 of 2**

Draco's childhood was one of expectation.

Expectation of a Black, expectation of a Malfoy heir, expectation of a pureblood, a firstborn, a child of the Dark Lord's highest lieutenant. Every move he made had to be choreographed for the benefit of those surrounding him. His walk, his hair, the tones of his voice were all carefully cultivated from years of expectation. The only solace he was able to find came in the form of knowledge and of books. He knew, even then, that the only way he could hope to govern himself with little concern for anyone else's opinion was to acquire _power._ Not as the Malfoy heir, that was his father's power. He needed power of his own. From observation he quickly surmised that knowledge was power, and he acted accordingly. Spending hours in the manor's library, reading every book he could reach with a stool, demanding his godfather present him with the ones he could not reach. Determined to understand and retain _everything_. It became such a need that after being amongst other people for a time he grew restless, tired of his act and quite vain of the wider knowledge he had attained through access to so many books and scrolls. His mind was always on alert and there were moments in the beginning where he lacked the skill to hide his contempt for his companions' stupidity. It was a flaw he possessed even now.

Those around him complained that he was _conceited_, and since he excelled in matters that were unimportant to them, they accused him of vanities he did not suffer from. That he was full of himself for his wealth or his status or his blood purity. They never once accused him of vanity toward his own merits. In defense he developed a sharp sense of humour and found that he had a knack of accurately divining and presenting the flaws of others, which sort of caught people raw. He said these things because they amused him, hardly realizing or caring how much they hurt, and was much offended when he found others couldn't handle the truth of themselves, lashing out with ridiculous cuts against his character. In his mind he was doing them a favour, rather than use his powers of observation to put out highly likely yet untrue and damaging rumours, he simply responded to insult with the _truth._ As for himself, he could live with insults that were true. He wasn't one for denying the truth.

And then he met _Potter._ Until then he'd had such a fear of meeting another like himself waring with a desperate desire for it. He was lonely but terrified of his isolation shattering and thus no longer playing king of his personal universe. He needed it, his inner sanctum. His self-control. The only things he had that were his and uniquely him in this world and not the product of an image forged to pleased the vision of those around him. But when he saw this messy haired boy who seemed much too young to be at school, walking around with a Stepford smile hiding a similar truth, he snapped a little inside.

Their first year Draco found the boy wonder standing alone in a hall staring out the window at the children playing on the grounds. When he asked him why he wasn't out their with his friends the little Gryffindor turned to him with his too bright eyes and said "I wasn't invited. You have to have friends to get invited."

It was absurd. "How can you not have friends?" He'd demanded.

"They don't like me." Was the response, and then he figured it out. The other Gryffindors didn't like Potter for who he was and thus he tried the golden persona he would come to perfect over the years. This was enough for people to like him but not enough to befriend him.

"How can they dislike something that isn't even there?" Draco had sniffed, raising his chin. The other boy gave him a small smile.

That was the moment that started the strange alteration in their interactions with one another. With a new understanding and camaraderie they felt free to speak to the other as they could not to anyone else. They _snarked_ and _insulted_ and _called one another out_, pushing each other to be stronger, thicker skinned, cleverer. Their rivalry born and exalted. A Hogwarts staple. The best parts were the bit when Potter's eyes flashed red, when he grinned wickedly, when he was searingly sarcastic and overwhelming informed and opinionated on everything to do with magic and affinities. Far clever than anyone would ever know. No, Draco was not his friend but he knew him in a way no one else ever would. He knew the real Harry Potter and that was more than enough for him.

All of that together brought them here, on the Hogwarts grounds in the middle of the night, potter holding a strange device over their heads to keeping them safe from the rain, the two of them discussing multi-existential single form creations set to frequencies maintained by their very own magical signatures. In the morning they would go back to being silly childhood rivals with unsolved issues awash in whatever problems the daylight might bring, but now? Now they were as gods among insects discovering the secrets of the universe by moonlight. With this boy who expected him only to be_ himself._

"Brilliant."

Potter puffed up. "Thank you."

"But there's an issue."

He deflated. "What is it?"

I'm assuming that there's a double use for the connected magical signature as a security clause? When a signature not pre-established attempts to connect, or use, the the insta-note it 'ceases' as it only exists for the two of us with our combined frequencies, correct?"

"Yes."

"This is a good idea but it has flaws. For instance, my mother and father have similar signatures to my own, this phenomenon caused by our blood connection. Blood of course being the strongest sort of collected magic we have at our disposal. Similarly, as you can I have a distant connection through my mother's black blood and your grandmother's black blood, we have signatures that have similarly qualities. As such, hypothetically, if my mother or father tried to use my side of the insta-note they probably could, because the mix with your magic would result in a frequency comparable to our originally frequency in a way that would likely be accepted by the insta-notes and allow them to activate it. The only way to avoid such a possibility would be if our frequency were entirely unique."

Potter appeared to ponder this. "I have a solution."

Draco stared. "Really? That quickly? You've just solved an incredibly complicated magical problem in about thirty seconds?"

"Observe." His tan hand pulled out a sharp silver blade the size of Draco's ring finger, he had seen Potter use it in the come and go room before. Potter twirled it between the fingers of his wand hand, his other tossing up and catching a small bag. "Did you know?" he asked, conversationally, walking in a circle outside of the shelter of the device he left hovering above Draco, "Out of all the people here, everyone who thinks they've a right to know my every move, out of the people who call themselves my friends, the only who really noticed anything was wrong is you?" Glittering sand poured from a small hole in the bag, creating a perfect circle. Potter tilted his head and added in an inverted triangle. The bag was placed back from whence it came and potter tossed about the Insta-note instead. "Hermione suspects I am purposely humouring her expectations to hide a secret from her. Ron believes I am being spiteful and trying to prove a point. You, however, have deduced that there is something wrong outside of petty personal grudges or duplicity. I find this fascinating because you and I don't even call one another friend. And we aren't friends, not in the normal sense. Honestly I'm not sure what we are, but I do find it preferable to my previous experiences with friendship I think." He stopped before Draco, under the rain repelling device, quite close. "I thought about this before, and I wasn't sure until last night. Anyway, try not to hit me for this until I'm done, alright? It really will solve the problem for the insta-note."

Potter held out his left hand and made a slash along the meat of his thumb on the palm, blood welled up. The cut was deep. The glint of the knife brought his focus to his own left hand which Potter deftly cut in the same manner. He wondered, in the back of the mind, if this was shock. He ought to curse the other boy, but, watching him press their two hands together, he found he couldn't move.

Their left hands clasped between them Draco watched the face of Potter, who watched the blood collected at the bottom of their joined hands and drop to the earth. He gave a nod and said. _"Brothers in Blood. One in Magic."_ With a crackle and low rumble the night-sky exploded into an Autumn storm, as violet strands of magic twirled down their arms to their wrists. Draco jolted, trying to remove his hand but was unable, the delicate strands strong and hot like steel in a forge. Pure magic was not something he was used to encountering, or indeed familiar with at all. The influx of power was both painful and exhilarating, boiling in the veins of his arms and he _felt_ it. The instant it reached his heart. An alarmingly wide expanse of _something_ opened up, pushing against the inside of his chest, building with pressure, and then it was shotting out of his arteries and into his bloodstream moving throughout his body, merging seamlessly with his tissue.

_"I have been one acquainted with the night_

_I have walked out in rain and back in rain_

_I have outwalked the furthest city light_

_I have looked down the saddest city lane_

_I have passed by the watchman on his beat and dropped my eyes_

_Unwilling to explain_

_I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet_

_When far away an interrupted cry came over house from another street_

_But not to call me back or say goodbye_

_And further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky_

_Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right_

_I have been one acquainted with the night."_

Wind kicked up even stronger and swirled about them nearly knocking him from his feet he could feel his hair snapping against his face, and the roar was overwhelming. The magic tying them together the only thing keeping them standing. Draco shut his eyes against the flashing lights and the wind finding only less blinding light beneath his lids. He heard, barely above the roar of magic, Potter say once more, _"Brothers in Blood. One in Magic."_

The magic stopped, leaving the sounds of the storm oddly muted in it's wake. Cautiously Draco opened his eyes. The lights were gone. Hs still burned on the inside.

Potter moved their hands apart, turning them palms up, the blood was gone and their wounds healed leaving twin scars. "There." The Gryffindor breathed, sounding hesitantly pleased. "Now no one but us can access the Insta-note." The boy was pale, shaking a little, one of his arms held out from his body just a bit.

It had taken a higher toll on him it seemed. Perhaps because the smaller boy had performed the ritual while Draco was a participant.

He felt his jaw fall open. It wasn't everyday one was a part of an impromptu _blood ritual_. Waves of panic built in a corner of his chest and he pushed them back as best as he could. Potter wasn't like other people, he wouldn't hurt Draco for no reason. He was fairly certain the raven haired boy had even designed the ritual himself. "Why would you do something like this...with me?" He demanded, his voice not nearly as steady as he wanted it to be.

Draco wracked his mind but he could not find a single instance of their interaction that would lead Potter to believe Draco was worthy of such a thing. He wanted it, very much. To have that sense of _belonging_ and _acceptance_. Panic welled up again. Experience had taught Draco that things like this would never be offered to him and if they were it would be a political move meant to further the agenda of the offering party. But what did he have that Potter could want? Potter wasn't a manipulator of politics or interested in wealth, he had his own, or anything else someone would come to Draco for. The only remaining viable option was the Potter did in fact value his interactions with Draco and genuinely wished to give a display showing his appreciation of Draco's presence in his life.

Potter traced the scar on Draco's hand for a moment, silent, then glanced up, once green eyes almost entirely red.

"You push me." said Potter, "You push my buttons. You piss me off. I can't think of a single twenty-four hour period we've gone without dueling." He paused. "And yet, somehow, I look forward to every meeting between us, whether to discuss magical theory or insult one another or compete over who got up the stairs first." The small Gryffindor tilted his head. "It's odd isn't it? I can't for the life of me understand it. You're always catching me in these vulnerable moments no one else has a clue about and you never run off telling the school about them, and I doubt you're collecting them for an insanely long list of blackmail. You don't stand there and talk about it with me because you think it's your right to know or out of a sense of duty or because I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived. You don't expect me to suck it up. Sometimes I think you see right through me. You. Draco Malfoy. You see me when no one else does. And I just...I want to be that for you as well."

The blonde stared. "So all of this is, what exactly?"

"More than anything this is an apology. Being blamed for my being who I am has to annoy the crap out of you. Ron wouldn't give you any attention at all if it weren't for me. I know that. Of course, you keep coming around anyway. The thing is, there's been a recent development. I've been told, not at all subtly, to stay away from you, keep my mouth shut and my head down and return to what is my expected realm of behavior prior to this year. In general, ignoring everything else, that isn't an order I'd feel any joy toward obeying. I did, in fact, beg not to have to do so. In that moment I realized something distressing. It seems I've become quite attached to you Draco. It's making me do stupid things, I really ought to do as I'm told, the consequences suck and I'm certain they'll only get worse when it becomes clearer the reason I'm fighting against it. But out of everything I've been asked to give up, you are the thing I am least willing to let go." Gleaming red eyes locked with his. "It's selfish really. Not at all noble. But when I'm with you I can be angry. When I'm with you I can make mistakes. I don't have to smile when I'm not happy or pretend to know less than I do or act like I don't have an opinion because it will offend you. I can just be...Harry. So this is my way of possessing you whether the world likes it or not. Now there's nothing anyone can do to take you away from me. I'm sorry I didn't ask first."

Potter twirled in a circle and gestured around them. "Remember when we were talking about the plausibility of the Butterfly Effect in a chaotic universe? How one little thing can have huge repercussions? Do you suppose this changes anything?"

Draco swallowed. "It changes a lot of things Potter."

"I feared as much." Said the Gryffindor.

Finding that it was just after midnight the two boys headed back into the castle, trailing watery footprints that soon dried in the warmth of the castle. Just inside the doors they stared up at the staircases leading up the center of the castle.

"Library?" Draco asked, surprisingly calm.

Potter nodded. Neither of them would sleep that night.

On the third landing they crossed paths with Percy Weasley and a very small first year. The boy recognized him and gave a half-bow.

"Well met Draco!"

The older Weasley gave a nod to Draco and the Gryffindor beside him. "Morning boys. Malfoy I see you've been acquainted with my little friend here."

He had. The child was a night-classer and a half vampire as well. His father being a noble dark one allowed the boy to walk about during the day with no one the wiser to his condition. Unfortunately a group of older boys in another house had ferreted out his less than human status and weren't at all subtle in their derision. Thrice since the beginning of term Draco had been summoned to take the boy to the infirmary and fire-call his rather protective sire. If a prefect was involved they'd be logged upon entering the infirmary and it would be known how often the boy was having problems. For normal children this wasn't a problem but night-classers tread a thin line between hesitantly granted education and being removed from the school for being far too much trouble. Night-classers were a Hogwarts tradition and so far Draco's father had managed to convince the Board of Governors to reject the idea every time Dumbledore suggested removing the program all together.

He studied the boy, from his gray deep-set eyes, to his pointed chin to red boots to his long silver hair. He didn't see any signs of hiding an injury. He wasn't keep any part of himself slower or faster or closer or farther away then was normal for him. Still, the boy was a gentle one, having been coddles by his sire and taught from birth to control himself. They were of Noble blood and his father wouldn't have his be a disgrace by acting like their lesser blood cousins who attacked anything with blood in sight and were known for a distinct lack of self control, following after every desire that entered their minds. The boy would never fight back. Not yet. He was too afraid of losing control.

"Are you well Rene?" Draco inquired.

The Slytherin was frustrated that thus far he'd been unable to catch the child's attackers in the act and bring them to justice. Hurting a first year was highly frowned upon, they couldn't properly defend themselves and were still getting used to living in close quarters with others not of their kind not to mention many were away from their clans and sires for the first time in their entire lives. When upper years had fights no one bothered to intervene unless they got out of hand, but harassing younger years was the work of cowards.

"I'm well enough tonight. Thank you for your concern."

Potter stepped forward before Draco could respond, giving a bow and a smile. "Hello there, Draco is very rude not to introduce me. I forgive him though. I'm Harry Potter, it's nice to meet you."

Rene flushed and gave a hasty bow, almost tripping on the stair. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance Potter. I didn't think you were one to walk the halls at night...?" He trailed off.

"Potter is well acquainted with the night Rene, as well as the art of breaking rules." Draco informed him.

The Gryffindor turned to him with an expression of mock hurt. "You wound me."

Rene giggled then covered his mouth in surprise.

Draco cleared his throat. "Now that that silliness is over. Have you taken your control potion this week?"

Sobering Rene nodded.

"Yes, but I shall need another soon. The scents here are overwhelming." Draco imagined that they must be.

"You will take someone with you this time Rene."

The first year looked away. "I do not require a babysitter Draco."

"No," Draco agreed. "But you do not need to be harassed either. I do not want to have to summon your father."

Rene paled. "I'd rather avoid that myself."

"I have offered my assistance when I am available Rene, you know you are welcome to come to me." Percy added in.

"I'm sorry, but what about harassment?" Potter looked between the three of them, his face far more serious.

Within minutes of the explanation Potter had secured a promised from Rene that he would come to them for his extra potions from now on. Draco affirmed that Potter had access to a delightful potions lab and it wouldn't at all be a bother to help him. Percy gave his agreement to the idea, he often came there a part from overseeing their experiments to brew sustaining and repair potions for the delicate pages of the books and scrolls in the archives. It wouldn't hurt their supplies to help him out.

Potter's luck being what it was, two older night-classers overheard them.

"Are you providing trait and repression potions now Malfoy?" A diamond faced Ravenclaw with milky eyes and very long thin hair walked up the stairs from behind them, beside him an androgynous Hufflepuff with small nose and small upturned mouth.

"Cassius, Garnett." He greeted.

Cassius pushed his long hair over a shoulder and nodded, while the blonde beside him said nothing at all. Garnett hardly ever spoke, Draco wasn't offended.

"Actually Potter here has offered his services."

Cassius' white eyes studied the Gryffindor. "Is he any good?"

"Very actually. He has an envy inducing lab within the school. A secret one."

"Is that so." Garnett's soft voice rang out.

Potter hesitated, uncertain whether he ought to give male or female courtesies. Draco watched him squirm for a moment then answered for him.

"It's true."

Garnett looked at Cassius and they communicated silently.

"Alright," said Cassius, "If you make some for us we've got the galleons for it. We're willing to pay to have on site access rather than wait for our owl orders or the infirmary to restock. So, what do you think?"

"I-"

"He'll do it." Said Draco.

Cassius left them with a bow, Garnett following after.

When he turned around and faced forward Percy and Rene were still there, the older of the two pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Did you just agree to sell potions illegally?"

Potter grasped Draco's wrist and began pulling him up past Weasley and Rene. "Look at the time! We should really be going." He turned and looked over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow Rene? We'll be in the library."

"Yes, see you then H-harry."

Draco snickered.

"What's funny?"

"You've got another member of your fan-club."

Potter scoffed.

"Of course I can't blame him for getting a crush. You were rather charming."

Potter tripped. "Quit saying things like that Malfoy!"

"Ah, but you embarrassed me in front of half of Gryffindor. I have not yet _begun_ to get my revenge."

"...Swell." Potter threw the invisibility cloak over them and they made their way to the library.

First they found books on creation to supplement the book Draco had already borrowed from his spellcrafting class, and came up with a list of failed experiments. Rather than come up with one of their own, they decided they'd go throw and figure out what went wrong with each one, base their presentation on that and then at the end showcase an alternate form of the insta-note. Draco had of course already informed Potter that he would be reaching out to the Department of Spell and Device registry at the Ministry to secure rights to the invention. After all, if you're good at something never do it for free.

Half an hour after the Library opened they were invaded by bushy hair and an overbearing attitude. Granger demanded Potter study with her, unbelieving when he told her he'd finished all the assignments for the week. Potter, who still insisted on playing good Gryffindor with his less than worthy Lion friends, went with her. Draco would have continued working on their code for the Insta-note but he was invaded himself by Nott and Zabini. Two hours of pretending to be only a half a semester ahead of them in lessons was more than enough. He did normally have more patience than this, he wasn't sure what was making him irritated with them. In fact, they were the Slytherins he liked the most in his year. Odd.

He took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. It had been a long day, a lot had happened, he was still loaded with residual magic from the ritual. He was bound to have an involuntary emotional response to it. He just need to control himself. Deep breaths.

_"Where are you going?" _

Draco blinked. Was that Weasley?

"Oi Dray," called Nott, peering around a bookcase, "Looks like the Gryffindor dream team is breaking up again."

"Fascinating." He muttered. His hands were shaking, why were they shaking? Draco placed his books in a pile and tapped them with his wand to shrink them down, stood and put them in his pocket. He needed to figure out what was going. If he took an inventory of all of his side effects he should be able to make a guess how long they'd last and find the appropriate potions or spells to help him until then. He would be calm. He would be the master of his self.

"Potter bolted."

Draco stilled. "What?"

"Right out the door. Granger grabbed him and said something to him. You should have seen him, he looked like he wanted to hit her."

His pocket heated up. Draco pulled out the Insta-note. _RENE _

He swore. "I'll meet up with you later." Draco pushed in his chair and was out the door before either Slytherin could respond.

He skid to a halt in the hallway. Two Ravenclaws had Rene pinned on the floor, another three were regretting dueling Potter, bound and propped against a wall.

Draco step forward. _"Incarcerous._" Both students fell backward, magical bindings around their arms. Potter ran forward to check on Rene.

"Are you alright?"

Rene flushed. "I am fine Harry." He lifted a hand wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

Draco narrowed his eyes, turning to the five bound, and slightly terrified, Ravenclaws. "What, exactly, did you think you were doing?"

When they didn't answer he looked to Rene who had sat up but not risen.

"They thought, since as a magical creature I'd be reviled and shunned in polite society once leaving Hogwarts, that they should help me get used to they idea of being a creature. They..." He took a moment, cleared his throat, picking at his boots. "They thought pretending to be a snake by crawling on belly might be a good place to start."

Potter straightened, walked to wall where the Ravenclaws were bound and leaned against it.

"For the next five minutes I didn't see anything."

Draco nodded.

"Alright you five, since you have such a like for our house animal, why don't I return the favour by helping you show house spirit of your own? _Volatilla Ad Sibi_."

He watched in satisfaction every little Ravenclaw bastard get covered in sticking eagle feathers. They'd itch and jab them for a couple hours. That ought to teach them a lesson. He gave them a glare for good measure then went to Rene, kneeling beside him. The first year did not look at him.

"Your lip is bleeding again." Said Draco.

"I know."

"Are you going to be alright?"

Rene looked up at that. "Is it true?"

"What?"

He pointed at the feathered students. "What they were saying. Is it really that bad when we're older? How they treat us? Father never talks about it and its been a long time since he was human."

Draco considered what to say. He didn't want to lie to him. Draco had his father's protection, the fact little was known about his family's traits. No one would dare accuse him, but Rene? It showed on him. Not as much as it would without the potion, he could pass as a Metamorphagus. No one would ask if he didn't give them reason to. But if they did know, it was hard to say what they would do. There were people like those Ravenclaws. too many. Being different in the magical world wasn't looked upon with favour. Hell Potter could attest to that. He wasn't even the victim of a cursed bite or creature genetics in his family line, Potter was just genuinely different in every way someone could be. He thought differently, acted differently. He was the savior of the wizarding world and they treated him cruelly when the mood struck. Someone gentle like Rene would be eaten alive if the child didn't learn to stand up for himself.

"It is. We're different. We're special. Mundane average people can't handle it. They go on about prejudices and darkness but what it comes down to is jealously. We're above them. Are listening Rene? You're_ better_ than them." Draco stood and studied the boy critically.

"We need to fix that lip of yours." He took his chin gently and murmured a basic healing charm.

Rene bit his lip. "Does it get easier?" His voice only shook a little.

Draco considered this as well. "Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving as we go along, we get stronger and more resilient. With every blow, every scrape, every close call, every mile on our knees, we grow. Our skin hardens and thickens, our knees become inflexible. We swallow pointless complaints and we stand again and again until we aren't afraid of falling anymore."

A tear fell from one eye and Rene hurriedly rubbed his cheeks, took a breath, put on a brave face and nodded.

Draco held out his hand and helped him to his feet.

"I understand." Said Rene, looking determined.

A throat cleared behind them. Draco turned to find Granger with her arms crossed, surveying them. "What happened?"

Draco looked at Potter who gave a small shrug. The Gryffindor gave a nod at the feathered Ravenclaws. "They were giving the little one a hard time."

True enough. Ah but the look of disapproval on Granger's face wasn't promising.

"And this was the only way you could think of to resolve the situation?"

Draco wanted to hit her. He really did. Sounding so self righteous when she didn't have a clue what was going on. He turned to Rene and leaned close. "Go to the seventh floor and wait for us there. Potter and I shall meet you and get those potions for you, alright? Go now before a professor comes." Rene gave a small nod and left down the hall.

He gave his attention back to Granger. "Well, first I thought about challenging them to a game of chess, but then I realized publicly humiliating them would be more emotionally satisfying."

Potter failed to hold in a laugh. His green eyes glinted red and he smiled, shaking his head.

"That is so irresponsible! We haven't covered that form of Transfiguration yet Malfoy you could have hurt them. Honestly, why didn't you just report the incident to a prefect and let them take care of it? It's their job. You aren't being a good influence, you should be teaching that boy to resolve his differences with others using his words."

Draco lifted his chi. "I did use my words."

"That isn't what I meant and you know it you loathsome little-"

"Enough."

Potter stood beside him, eyes locked with Granger. "We've got potions work to do Hermione. Why don't you go back to the library?" The smaller boy's body stiffened, he cursed under his breath and turned away, heading to the seventh floor.

Draco followed him without a backward glance to spare for the meddlesome witch.


	17. Chapter 16

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ **Synonyms:** _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Rage. Sneaking around. Bullying. Depression. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Do you know what it's like when you're scared to see yourself? _

_Do you know what it's like when you wish you were someone else?_

_Do you know what it's like when you're not who you wanna be?_

_Do you know what it's like to be your own worst enemy?_

_Who see the things in me I can't hide? __Do you know what it's like to wanna surrender?_

_I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow, I don't wanna live like this today_

_Make me feel better, you make me feel better, you make me feel better_

_Put me back together!_

_Stay with me here now and never surrender_

* * *

Harry walked away quickly, eyes scanning the hall for somewhere to hide. Just for a moment, that's all he'd need. Shocks of moving, vindictive needles pricked their teeth up and down his arm, centered along that blasted behavior cuff. He clenched his teeth and made a fist and ignored his nails piercing into the soft skin of his palm. He needed to focus, He couldn't fall apart. Harry couldn't afford to. Because he was terrified if he slipped just once, if he broken down just one time, he'd never be able to put himself back together. It'd be so tempting too, wouldn't it? To just let go and fall to pieces and sob and scream and throw a fit on the floor and not to care who saw it. But he couldn't do that. He was Harry Potter, and Harry Potter didn't get to be weak. Harry Potter didn't get to ask for help. And Harry Potter certainly didn't get to let himself fall beneath the weight of a too large burden. If he let it show, Dumbledore would know it was getting to him. He'd get him alone and talk in that voice with that look in his eyes and he'd convince Harry that it was for the best. Just like he always did. But Harry wasn't going to do that this time. He wasn't going to give in and play along. He'd rather die.

A broom-closet up ahead was to be his temporary sanctuary. He pushed the door open and let it slam, shaking so hard he could hardly cast a silencing spell. It was only then he let his knees buckle, and his back fall against the wall, his mouth open and a scream out. Harry cradled his wrist to his chest and cursed the headmaster and the inventor of the vile thing and his wrist for being the receiver of the pain. Gulping in breaths and half-choking on them, he sat there sprawled on the floor and tried his damnedest to scream the pain out of him. It didn't make it go away, of course it didn't, but it helped in an odd way. To acknowledge the pain. He swallowed and closed his eyes in the darkness of the cupboard, indistinguishable in shade form the darkness prevalent in the cupboard he once called home. Of course the air of this cupboard didn't taste of wasted space, it only tasted of weakness and desperation. Honestly he wasn't sure which was preferable.

Harry ended up curled in a ball, holding himself together, literally and figuratively, making himself as small as he could. Never small enough though, he was still there and so was the pain and so was the problem. He needed to breathe and get control of himself. He needed to but he couldn't quite catch his breath and his chest wouldn't stop aching and his arm was being fried from the inside and he just _couldn't_. Frightening sobbing growls came from his mouth involuntarily, his arms gathered in to himself in an effort to hold them still. He couldn't move anymore, he couldn't breathe and he just kept making those awful sounds. He had spent every moment certain Dumbledore would come to him. Certain he would die before he could figure this out. He spent even more terrified that he _wouldn't._ Sometimes he felt like he was walking along the shore of a sea and the bottom suddenly falls away and the shore is further than he remembers. Like that day in the prefects washroom. That was his life. Every time he thought he had a handle on how he should act and the best way to get through his current situation, a wave came along and knocked him off of his feet again.

The thing about spending a lot of time alone, especially when it was thrust upon you by backstabbing housemates, was that it gave you a lot of time to think. You don't necessarily reach any conclusion, because wisdom is largely a combination of intelligence, self-awareness and gained perspective from experience which you didn't get from sitting on the floor of a broom closet or a washroom or the come and go room while you tried to hold yourself together and pretend the world away. But you did become very good at thinking yourself into endless loops of desperation in half the time it would take a normal person who had things other then mind numbing pain and betrayal on their minds. It was a dark, dangerous sort of desperation Harry was feeling lately. It started as any other feeling of desperation might, with anxiety and jumpy nerves and a dry throat and the constantly closing-in jail cell image in the corner of your mind, but it had mutated. Into this compassion-less itch to strike out against everything around him. To destroy everything between him and relief from the feeling, even if that something was the world. Or himself.

He couldn't do this anymore. He'd have to, but he wasn't certain he'd be successful. Because he knew once he left this tiny room, in spite of the molten lava roiling in his arm, he would have to put his mask back on, his face must return to a neutral expression and sometimes even a pleasant one, he would have to engage in small talk and be responsive to invasive questions and even, Merlin help him, smile. Because he knew, he just knew, Hermione and Ron wouldn't leave it alone. Not after that. They'd find him and corner him and demand answers to questions they had no right to ask in the first place. They'd look at him accusingly and hurt and expectantly, misunderstanding all of his reasons for not wanting share and he'd feel guilty. Then he'd have to follow them to the library or the common room or the great hall and he'd have to _smile._ There would be no time for falling apart then. So he did what he'd learned to do. He put up his walls. Not to keep the world out, but to keep himself inside. To keep his control. It was for their benefit really. No one knew the monster beneath his skin like he did.

_Except maybe..._

"Is he in there? Harry!" Came a familiar voice outside his sanctuary.

_Except..._

"Turn around and walk away."

_Him._

"No, we need to talk to Harry."

"You need to shut your mouth, turn around and walk away."

Ron's voice came now, loud and confrontational. "Don't tell me what to do Malfoy. Why don't we let Harry decide if he wants to talk to me."

"He literally turned his back on you and walked away. Take the hint."

The voices were quieter then and he couldn't make it out. Abruptly they got much louder.

"One day he's going to wake up and-"

"And what? Realize how cold I am? That I'm selfish and manipulative? He isn't walking around thinking I'm some kitten saving, misunderstood anti-hero or something. I'm not a good guy. Do you really think he's so stupid that he doesn't know this? Or that he'll decide he misses you and wishes none of this had happened? He won't. He misses you sure, don't ask me why, but he'll never want things to go back to the way they were. He wasn't happy then. He isn't happy now but at least he doesn't have to pretend as hard anymore. Why are you trying to force him back to that?"

"...I never said he was stupid." Came Hermione's voice. Harry noticed she didn't answer the question. Maybe she didn't know the answer.

"You implied it."

"I didn't mean to. Look Malfoy the Harry_ I_ know doesn't act this way."

"Then you don't know him."

"I've been his friend for four years of course I know him!"

"Oh? Alright then let's test this. What does he always have at every meal? Is he left or right handed? Why does always wear those ugly muggle shoes instead of boots even during Quidditch?"

"I don't know."

"No, you don't."

"And you do?" Ron's voice challenged.

Harry sat up straighter.

"Apples. Left handed, but he's able to use his wand with either hand. Because he doesn't like feeling restrained. It's the same reason he doesn't like it when you try to hug him and why his bloody tie is always loose. I can't go a day without hexing him and I know this. Why don't you?" No one said anything.

Harry closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Of course they hadn't known those things. Those weren't the sort of things Ron and Hermione cared about. They knew he liked finishing his homework at the last minute, but they didn't know it was because he spent most of his time researching before writing the actual paper. They knew he liked flying but they didn't know it was because he spent most of his life locked up. It wasn't the sort of things he talked about with them. It wasn't the sort of questions they asked. They just...didn't.

"Did he tell you that? Harry told us you talk sometimes in detention."

"Of course he didn't tell me. Potter doesn't do things that way. He keeps it all bottled up until he's half destroyed himself and then he either succeeds in bashing it back for a bit or he throws himself into something stupid to keep his mind off of it and crosses his fingers no one notices because seeming weak is something he couldn't stand. Potter is proud, Granger. He wants to handle things on his own, of course he hasn't sobbed out his issues to me don't be ridiculous." Harry heard someone stomping away. Probably Ron.

"Why are you doing this Malfoy? You don't even like him, why hang around him?"

"None of your business. Leave."

Another pause. "I don't trust you."

"That's because you shouldn't."

Footsteps faded. The door to the cupboard opened. Malfoy walked in and shut it behind him. He didn't say a word at first. He didn't comment on Harry's position huddled against the wall or ask what the hell all of that had been about. He didn't ask why Harry put up a silencing spell or why he was hiding in a closet. He didn't remark on his face, which probably showed more than Harry wanted it to. Malfoy didn't point out all of the things he'd noticed wrong with him or demand answers. He just stared at Harry with silver too-knowing eyes.

"If something isn't being used it's meaningless. Is your mind meaningless Potter? Or your magic?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Then get a grip. You've got talents, you've got strength, Circe knows you've got a brain under that birds nest. Use them. If you won't let your obnoxious Gryffindors help you, and you won't ask me for help, then you've got no choice but to stand on your own two feet and do something with what you've got to fix whatever the problem is. That's how it works. If you won't ask for help you don't get to cry in a broom cupboard because you haven't got any. Now take a breath and get a hold on yourself. You can do this, best this situation you've got going, you always do. I don't care if the whole of the wizarding world starts doubting you, if you do it I'm going to beat you senseless. I don't suffer fools and point blank _refuse_ to be blood bonded to one."

Harry glared up at the blonde standing above him and looking down with that cold, calculating face, wearing all-knowing superiority like a king wears his cape and Harry couldn't keep on with the golden boy act just then. He wasn't sure if he threw the first punch or not but they were swiping at each other in another moment, pushing one another back in the cupboard and stumbling over strewn cleaning buckets and mops and Filch would _absolutely_ have a field day when he saw the mess they'd leave behind. Malfoy tripped him into the wall and he narrowly avoided smacking his face into it. Growling Harry shot a hex at the blonde. Draco slammed back into the corner, his lips turned upward. Hexes and minor curses, jinxes mixed with punches and shoves, the both of them having fun all the while. It was all bloody lips and bruised sides and nasty spells glittered with adrenaline laced laughter and unhealthy enjoyment. Harry loved every minute.

On some subconscious cue it ended. Exhausted Harry slid down the wall of the cupboard and sat there, panting. Malfoy was no better off across from him. The blonde git was still grinning wickedly and Harry could feel himself mirroring it. Even in the dim light Harry could tell the Slytherin look a mess. Hair tangled, robe unbuttoned and uneven, tie lost, shirt torn and blooded and scorch marks everywhere. He probably didn't look much better.

"Do you feel better now?"

Harry nodded. He did feel better. His situation wasn't fixed, he didn't have a plan of action, his wrist still hurt, but he felt better. It was absolutely insane to feel good after being hexed and generally beaten on, but he did. It wasn't that they enjoyed fighting one another, though they did, when they fought it wasn't Harry Potter versus the Slytherin evil doer, as many students would believe, it was each of them against their rage. Their insecurities and loneliness and discontent. They fought themselves when they dueled. They threw hexes at their own demons. And even though nothing was solved after the fact, even though it often ended with a loss of points and a trip to Madame Pomphrey, it helped as nothing else could. Hermione's well meaning rants couldn't do this. Ron's indifference and attempt to change the subject didn't help like this. Maybe it was sort of sick. Feeling better after being hurt. He certainly had no desire to psychoanalyze himself to ferret out the plethora of issues he was certain that was a symptom of. Harry already knew he wasn't the poster boy for well-adjusted.

Malfoy's words broke his train of thought. "Do you know where the strongest part of each of us is Potter?"

Harry looked at the blonde squished in the closet with him, clothed in shadowed shades of gray. "No." He whispered. He didn't have a clue.

"Just beyond our breaking point. Have you reached your breaking point?"

"I don't think so." Not yet.

"Then take some hope that there is yet a stronger bit of you out there you haven't touched yet. As horrible as whatever you've gotten into is, and I can tell that it must be, you can do this. There's a way out, you just haven't seen it yet and it when you finally find it you'll already know that you have this extra burst of strength waiting for you to get you through to the other side. Hold on to that thought."

Was he trying to comfort him? Harry looked away to hide a smile that had nothing to do with dueling. Malfoy had done this before but this was the most blatant he'd been about it since the last time. That was also in a broom closet. There was probably a name for people who liked to hide in small places when they were upset even though they hated them the rest of the time because they grew up in dark small places. He wasn't going to think too hard on it though. "Thats an odd way to look at things Malfoy."

The blonde kicked at his foot. "Says the boy hiding in a broom cupboard getting advice from a Slytherin. Again."

"I suppose you have a point." Harry beamed at him.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stood, reaching out and pulling Harry to his feet. Harry snickered when he realized Malfoy had to stoop in the cramped space. "Good. Now I believe we've left Rene waiting for an inexcusably rude amount of time."

Rene. His potions. "Damn, I forgot. Come on." Harry held on to the taller boy's hand and pulled him out of the cupboard, smirking when he heard him hit his forehead against the doorway. Served him right for being so tall.

"Slow down you damn impatient gazelle." The Blonde cursed, the rest of thew words were in French but Harry was pretty sure they amounted to the same thing.

"Gazelle?" He inquired.

"They're fast deer-like creatures."

"I know what they are. I also know they're often called majestic."

"I would never call you majestic Potter."

"Gazelles are majestic."

"They're also Lion and Hyena bait. That's hardly complimentary."

"So you admit they're majestic."

"You have selective hearing when I talk don't you?"

"Hey Harry!" Called a voice from the other side of the hallway. Harry froze, Malfoy bumping into him, and turned his head to see the Weasely twins smiling. Their blue eyes glancing between Harry, Malfoy and the cupboard they just left. "Having fun with your girlfriend?"

Harry felt his face flush. "It's not like th-"

Malfoy started toward them, dragging Harry behind him and Harry had to suppress a groan. Neither of them were in any shape to duel the twins of all people. He tried to stop him but the grip on his hand was too strong. The blonde stopped just before the two older boys.

"Let's get one thing straight." The Slytherin said, voice low and cool. "I'm not the girl."

_"You have got to stop saying things like that!"_

* * *

_**AN:**_ How am I doing? Additionally, to those who asked, yes it's totally cool to put your guesses in your reviews. I'll think up something special for you if you're really close, okay? It's fun seeing what you think.

Ever Yours

-Pseu


	18. Chapter 17

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ **Synonyms:** _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Rage. Sneaking around. Bullying. Depression. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Take me down to the river bend, take me down to the fighting end, wash the poison from my skin_

_Teach me how to be whole again_

_Cus I'm only a crack in this castle of glass, hardly anything left for you to see, for you to see_

_Bring me home in a blinding dream through the secrets that I have seen, wash the sorrow from off my skin_

_Show me how to be whole again_

_Cus I'm only a crack in this castle of glass, hardly anything else I need to be_

_Hardly anything left for you to see_

_For you to see_

* * *

Rene was aware he'd lived a somewhat sheltered life courtesy of his over protective sire that had until this point kept a blanket covering his eyes in regards to certain hard facts about the world. He had also known perhaps on a secondary level that there were prejudices against magical creatures but having never come across it directly he'd assumed it wasn't as prevalent as perhaps it might have been. That it was this...horrible...ignorant ideal long-since passed its glory days, a mistake in history to reflect on and take pains not to repeat. Rene wasn't particularly stupid and he had known even then that there were present day occurrences of prejudices but the ones that came to mind were always the magical versus non-magical wars or the affiliations or the werewolves._ They_ were the sort who had to deal with it as a daily reality. It was this rose hazed belief that made him, he knew, such a target now. Perhaps if he had paid more attention when he read history books or visited war memorials with his father or even to other people in the world outside the bubble of himself and his sire. He had not done those things, selfishly and childishly focused on his own immediate desires and concerns. As a result he was forced to look over everyone he'd ever met in his life and wonder if they were living the life he lived now. If they had never known anything else.

The sudden shift in life experience was jarring to say the least. His father taught him from birth to control himself, his urges, his abilities. The mark of a noble vampire, beyond their larger amount of power to mundane vampires, was their self control. That was how they still survived into the present era while their weaker, wilder cousins barely counted centuries. In a large part of the world Noble vampire were welcome among the community and in the clan he was of course treated well. It had missed him somehow that the wizard half of his existence might not agree with the vampiric half. Now he lived in a limbo-like states, neither vampire nor human and both sides hating him for the fact. He couldn't help being half vampire. That didn't seem to matter.

Rene lost control only once in his life. Never since. Though the getting hit in the face thing was starting to get old...

He learned quickly that while there were many unwritten rules to surviving at Hogwarts and in Slytherin. He also learned that for the most part only four of them mattered. Keep in house fighting out of the public eye. Avoid out-of-year power plays until third year. Don't get caught breaking the school rules. And challenge the Slytherin Prince or King at your own risk. The Prince; Draco Malfoy, fourth year. Titled earned first year. The King; Nicolae Rosier, sixth year. Title earned the first day of this school year, inheriting the title from his elder brother. More of a formality as no one was prepared to challenge him at this point.

The vampire's first view of the Slytherin Prince was in the common room the first night of the school year. Two prefects gave them a long, daunting list of rules to follow and simple directions to frequently used areas about the castle. Then it quieted, not a blunt immediate quite but the sort that creeps up on you. From the hall leading to the dorms a tall boy with pale blonde hair and equally pale skin came toward them. Rene just managed to keep his face blank. He knew who it was of course. Draco Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin. First in over a decade to attain and maintain the title by their third year and the second in the house's history to gain the title during their first year. Everyone knew who was the first. Silver eyes surveyed them with detached interest, each first year in turn straightening their posture when those orbs paused on them. Hoping he might see something worth while and praying he wouldn't find them wanting. None of them daring to breathe too loudly. Rene remembered the involuntary shudder that crept up his spine. He was a half vampire, his sire a noble vampire in high standing, he was no stranger to dangerous people. But this was all together a different sort of dangerous. The boy wasn't heavily muscled, though he had to have some being a quidditch player, his manner wasn't harsh, his voice was soft. Still.

The warning from his father rang in his ears with such a force the boy was surprised no one else could hear it.

_Stay away from the Malfoy boy._

Rene did his best to follow those orders. Fate had other ideas. His third night here Rene found himself face to face with the Slytherin Prince, while wounded, in the corridor just outside of the Slytherin common room. Their fifth year prefect had been the one to find him. It was humiliating actually. She dragged him, not unkindly but not altogether patiently either, and stopped before the bare wall. Rene sat on the floor and waited. When he heard the wall slide again he looked up to ask her what would happened and next and froze. Malfoy. The older boy was entirely oblivious to the pounding of his too-fast heart. He stepped closer to him and Rene found himself shrinking away against his wishes. Showing weakness was stupid and fear was certainly a weakness. Not even a week after his father told him to stay away from the boy he found himself along in a corridor, wounded, with him. Rene was aware, as were all of the Slytherins, that the Malfoys were something not quite human. What it was and what their gifts were went largely undiscussed. Mostly because no one wanted to be caught talking about such things behind the family's back. Whatever these gifts were, they were the reason his sire did not want him to be around the other boy. It was the reason you shivered when his eyes focused on you. The reason you sigh with a mixture of relief and disappointment when his gaze moved on.

Malfoy helped him to his feet without a word and lead him to a room two hallways away from the common room. It was well used by the look of it, with couches and chairs for sitting and a fireplace. Along the side was a small cabinet from which the older boy retrieved a healing potion. Pale hands, nearly as pale as his own, offered the vial to him wordlessly, silver eyes watched him drink it, pale lips frowned. It was at the end of a very long conversation where Rene sat there for most of it listening to the Slytherin Prince give him a general dressing down. It was shocking. He felt very confused, somewhat ashamed and altogether fond of the other boy by the end of the night, at which point his savior floo called his sire who in turn gave him another dressing down. This one including a semi-private moment of fury in another language as his sire did not wish to offend the potentially dangerous boy in the room with his child. Afterwards Malfoy lead him back to the common room, offering a bow and instructing the little vampire to call him Draco if he liked. Not at all as he imagined him being.

Rene took to watching him after that.

Within the common room Draco sat in a chair to the right of the dorms, on the opposite side of the fire. A perhaps two foot radius of empty space kept between him and everyone else, even when he stood and crossed the room the other students stayed away from him, going to great pains not to accidentally brush him. No one touched him. Sliding out of the way as he walked through the halls, stopping their conversations when he arrived, pausing in their games to see if he wanted them to leave. The Slytherin's world revolved around him. Rene noticed other things too. Draco hardly spoke. It seemed odd. You would think he would talk more, with the word tirade the blonde boy had given him, but no he wasn't one for speaking. The boy preferred to observe, finding normal conversation tedious. Nothing much held his attention for long unless it came in a book. Blank and cold. Rene decided he liked him anyway and made an effort to greet the boy warmly every time he saw him from then on. The first time he called out to Draco, using his given name as he was allowed, the boy was genuinely surprised. Surprised but pleased.

The lovely smile it sometimes earned him to did nothing to make him less afraid of the other boy. He was still dangerous.

It wasn't until he saw him with Harry Potter that Rene realized the ice was just a mask. All Slytherins wore masks of course, it was their suit of armor against the world. But he had just, for whatever reason, assumed the boy really was cold most of the time. He was, just not with Harry. Everyone knew of their rivalry and their supposed hatred for the other. After seeing the smaller boy dragged a willing Draco by the hand, seeing the Slytherin Prince's lips twist up in amusement, he knew this wasn't the legendary schoolboy rivalry made it out to be. Rene couldn't explain it if anyone asked him. No one would, he was a vampire and his opinion mattered little to wizards. He just knew he was witnessing the beginning of something more than anticipated. Harry was also nothing like what he expected. He wasn't stuck up, he didn't insult his heritage or demand to see his night pass to verify he was allowed about at night. The slender boy bowed and gave a brilliant smile. Rene's cheeks flushed. The smaller of the two was incredibly charming. And if the red glint in his eyes when he looked at Draco was anything to go by, also dangerous. His slight, very slight, hero worship of Potter, Harry, grew exponentially in the confrontation outside of the library.

That was the first moment he realized this prejudice thing wasn't going to go away. He left them alone with the mean looking Gryffindor girl, trusting them to know how to handle upset females better than he would, and waited in the seventh floor corridor as instructed. He wasn't usually one for following _other_ people's orders, but one must adapt in new situations. Adapt, Migrate or Die, right?

Rene settled against the wall and nearly jumped out of his skin when Draco ran, literally ran, past him and turned into a door on the other wall Rene swore had not been there a few minutes before. He didn't have time to wonder why the Slytherin Prince was forgetting all sense of decorum, because the reason was sprinting alarmingly fast down the hall after him, turning into the door as well. Rene blinked at the sound of crashes within the room. A pair of identical red heads wandered along after that looking rather smug. They spied him and motioned for him to follow along. He hesitated then said to hell with it and followed after them. If Harry really was trying to kill Draco he could always use the two taller boys as shields. Inside the room was far larger than the length of the hall, someone must have expanded it, and it was filled with work stations for brewing, potions ingredients, supplies and even base elements for alchemy. All of this would have been amazing to see on its own, a private collection this large was pretty much unheard of. It all faded to background noise in light of the far more interesting source of entertainment before him.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor princes were _dueling. _Along the far right of the room Percy Weasley worked at a desk, picking up and removing a stack of paperwork from harm's way when Draco ducked out from under an adjacent work station and jumped atop his desk, leaping from it to the next. Potter followed after. Percy replaced the parchment, never looking up. Harry tackled Draco to the floor, rolling and punching and somehow still managing to send out spells. There was blood on the floor and splattered on the both of them. Rene wasn't sure who the blood came from. He winced when Draco punched the smaller boy. Probably from both of them, he thought. Rene and his fellow intruders looked at one another and then began back away from the middle of the room in silent agreement, their movements cautious. Glass vials on a shelf not three feet from Rene shattered into thousands of pieces. The shelf its self was a on fire.

Magic rang out in the air, sparks glittering here and there sizzling and hissing like electric snakes. Rene swallowed. He had never seen...anything like this. A flash of red shot toward him, he rolled instinctively and used his speed to get him out of harm's way. Crouching under a table to escape other stray hexes Rene eyed the two Gryffindors taking refuge behind a small bookcase and a shielding charm. "Excuse me, what on earth did did Draco do?" The vampire called, eyes wide.

Twin expressions of dark amusement locked on him. "He called Harry a girl."

Rene blinked.

"It's your fault you know," Rene spun around as best he could without smacking into the legs of the table. Draco had Harry pinned beneath him, legs tangled together, long fingers wrapped around a tan throat. His other hand gripped Harry's dark locks forcing his head back. Rene wondered if Draco did that so he could watch the life leave Harry's eyes if he held him there too long. "You shouldn't have dragged me to your room with your entire house as an audience."

Harry, a bit blue, smiled up at the blonde. As if he wasn't suffocating. "Probably." Came a raspy, snarky reply.

Draco's fingers flexed on Harry's neck. Rene brought a hand to his own neck in sympathy. He didn't imagine that felt good. The two seemed utter unaware the rest of the world existed and indeed seemed surprised when Percy spoke to them. They didn't move from their positions, rather Draco calmly continued choking Harry while looking up at the ex-Gryffindor. It really would have been rude not to look him int he eye while he was talking to Draco. Rene almost let out a half hysterical laugh at that. It was sort of morbid.

"I don't understand." Said Percy, standing there with a stack of parchment held to his chest. He stared down at them entirely unperturbed by their assassination attempts. "Why do you suddenly care if people think you guys-"

"That's not it." Interrupted Draco. "I don't care about that. Him dragging me to _his_ room makes it look like either I'm a prude, which I most certainly am not, or that _I'm_ the receiver. That's just ridiculous."

Harry hissed something at the Slytherin Rene was pretty sure wasn't a compliment.

The twins appeared on either side of him, pushing into him slightly to get a better look. Honestly they should have though of that before they chose to hide back there, there wasn't enough room for all three of them. He glared at his twin companions who only smiled in response. Rene gave a smile of his own baring his fangs. They paled. One twin lost his balance and fell back into the desk behind them knocking a silver dish and an ink pot to the floor with an alarmingly loud crash.

The three of them froze.

* * *

**AN:** Has it really been six months since I started this? Well to mark the occasion is there anything specific you guys have been dying to see? I can try to bring it forward a bit in the time line for you or create a new scene if I don't have it already. Let me know.

**Ever Yours**

**Pseu**


	19. Chapter 18

**The Rivalry**

* * *

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ **Synonyms:** _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Rage. Sneaking around. Bullying. Depression. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN** The winning suggestion can be found within this chapter. Congratulations. And thank you to everyone who suggested scene ideas in honour of this story's benchmark.

Ever Yours

**-pseu**

* * *

_You alone are what my soul needs, you know the thirst is taking over_

_Hardly breathe, I'm in urgent need, you know the thirst is taking over_

_Hold me down, hold me down, drip it on my tongue and my convulsions stop_

_Thirst for love, thirst for your love, I could swallow your beauty whole_

_I'm going to scream aloud, throw it down, crash into the sweet obsession of you_

_I'm going to swim and drown in the wake of you_

_I wanna drink you in, I am drinking you in, I wanna drink you in_

_You know the thirst is taking over_

_I wanna taste it...I need to taste it_

* * *

Rene might have been a very young and small vampire but he was by no means without a healthy dose of self-preservation, even now. Indeed not only was it a Slytherin trait, it was also an inborn trait of all Vampire. Thus while most had only the options of Fight or Flight in a conflict Rene had other choices offered to him in the gift of cunning. The best course of action, especially when it truly was not your fault as was the case, was to avert negative attention for as long as possible while searching out an keeping in mind escape routes. Prior to this moment he would have said the Slytherin Prince was far too in control of his emotions to explode in violence. That was before he saw him strangling Harry who, to Rene's knowledge, Draco was somewhat fond of. The Gryffindor's fearless pursuit of the older boy did nothing to assuage Rene's fears or instill hope that the boy might take on the role of the calmer, saner of the two and _prevent_ Draco from lashing out should he find it necessary. He'd probably join him. Indeed the thought of the two of them working together top punish them for not only neglecting to announce their presence but also wreck some potion they were working on, for it was definitively some sort of potion in that dish from the sight of the potions workstations around the room, was a very disturbing thought.

Without a flicker of remorse the little vampire stood up straight, raised his chin and with all of the dignity one of his station possessed he pointed at the two red-headed menaces and declared, "They did it." Ignoring the exclamations of betrayal and outrage coming from behind him Rene had eyes only for the owners of silver and green. They parted from each other and stood, never speaking. Rene found that more unnerving than if they'd begun yelling at him. Or cursing him. He didn't think he'd ever heard them yell at anyone but each other. Harry crossed his arms and grinned at him. A flash of him leaping from desk to desk tossing painful hexes with a delighted gleam to his green eyes waltzed in his mind's eye. Rene felt venom pool in his mouth.

"You should have a sweet." Said Harry, randomly.

Rene blinked, his gaze flickering to Draco who only smiled innocently. Rene swallowed, ordering himself to pay attention. "I beg your pardon?" He really hoped they weren't poisoned sweets.

The Gryffindor pointed at the overturned dish lying not far beyond one of the red headed twins. Clear liquid was slowly spilling from it, intermingled in it were tiny colorful candies in the shape of bears. "I was working on a recipe. You should try one each, all of you, so I can see if it's effective. You'll do that for me won't you?"

The twins no doubt pleased to be let off the hook, shrugged, rescued the dish and drew out a candy each. Rene kept his eyes on the two older years before him a moment longer. It seemed very unlikely they would be allowed to get away with having seen the two of them in such a...compromising moment. It was with a high amount of unease Rene joined the twins in eating sweets. The thought his father would avenge his 'death' soothed him. His body would regenerate and he'd be back to normal in a day or so but it would still be painful...and undignified. Vampires did not get themselves poisoned. Burned, yes. Staked, definitely. Getting poisoned was just _embarrassing._

"There." Harry clapped his hands together. "Now that that's done, Fred where did you and George set up your next prank?"

"Fifth floor corridor, second suit of armor on the right. Tomorrow from breakfast to the beginning of dinner."

The second twin stared at the first in bewilderment. "Fred!"

Said twin glance up at his brother with a frown, "What?" He popped another candy in his mouth.

"Why did you tell him that?" Demanded not-Fred. Rene wasn't sure if the other twin was George or if George was someone else altogether.

"Because he asked," said Fred. He paused and cocked his head as if wondering why that was a good enough reason to give an answer to what was an incriminating question. They both seemed to ponder it.

Rene, apparently catching on much quicker than his two accomplices had begun edging toward the door hoping to escape to his dorm until the truth spell wore off. He may have made it out the door if luck wasn't so thoroughly against him today. His red boots squeaked on the wet floor drawing the others' attention to him in time to see him slip and fall rather spectacularly with a shriek. It was rather unlikely they'd just ignore him and leave him there. Sitting up and rubbing his elbow Rene had to give them a mental round of applause. That was quick thinking on their part. Getting them to eat the unknown candies, conveniently doused with some sort of truth serum, and thus getting them to reveal secrets. It was excellent blackmail potential for them to ensure neither Rene nor the twins ever told anyone anything about what they'd seen. Still...if Rene could just make it out the door perhaps he could...

Harry knelt beside him, a line between his brows just visibly through his dark fringe. Rene gazed into his emerald eyes in a daze quite forgetting his previous train of thought. It wasn't his fault. Harry was charming, good looking and dangerous as well. Honestly he wasn't sure if he wanted to tackle him to the floor and ravage him or tackle him to the floor and _drain him of his blood_. Or both.

"Are you alright Rene?"

He snapped out of his daydream, swallowing the venom pooling in his mouth. "Y-yes Harry."

"Excellent." The worried concern on his face morphed into a wicked smile and dark promises that made Rene shudder. A flick of the Gryffindor's wand and the door behind Rene slammed shut ominously.

"How much did you see?"

"Enough to know you two have no qualms permanently injuring the other."

Harry looked amused at that. "And how did you get in here?"

Rene lifted his arm and pointed. "Them." It was technically the truth, he wouldn't be in here if he hadn't followed them when they motioned for him to follow them. He'd thought they had permission and it was obvious they did not. Whatever truth spell was in the candies accepted his answer to Rene's relief.

Harry, thankfully, turned to the twins. "And how did _you_ get in?"

"We followed you." Said one twin, looking down at the candy in his hand with a glare. They'd finally figured it out.

"You didn't make it hard." Said the other.

"And you left the door open." They said together.

The vampire felt his mouth fall open. "How do they do that?"

"Good question." Said Draco approvingly. "Answer the nice vampire boys."

The twins looked at one another, obviously trying to decide how to answer. It was in vain however as their mouths opened over their own accord shortly after. "Mental link." That twin put his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

The second spouted, "We were born with a dual soul. One soul, partially but not fully split and two bodies."

"Our parents don't even know that." Said the first through his hand. He lifted it from his face and glared at it as if it were his hand's fault he had to tell the truth.

"We _obliviated_ Madame Pomphrey after she told us." They stiffened and looked at one another is shock.

"How could you tell him that?" Demanded one.

"How could you! I didn't say anything about the _obliviate!_" The argument turned into a scuffle.

Harry pulled Rene to his feet. They stood there, The Slytherin Prince, The Gryffindor Golden Boy and the Half-Vampire watching the twins try to murder one another in a mix of slap fighting and ridiculous insults. They didn't seem all that concerned about the delicate information they'd unwillingly delivered to two Slytherins one deliciously devious boy savior. "Gryffindors."Rene muttered. "No offense Harry."

The raven haired boy raised a brow. "None taken."

Draco threw an arm around the shorter boy, half choking him. "He's more Ravenclaw than Gryffindor anyway. And more Slytherin than Ravenclaw."

Harry scowled and ducked from under his arm though Rene noticed he didn't correct Draco.

"Take that fiend!"

Rene tilted his head to let a candy fly by. He turned and looked at it then faced forward, fingering his wand and considering the merits of trying to summon one of the tables to protect him from the projectile candies. When did this evolve into a sweet-fight? One twin gathered a handful of sweets and pelted them at the other who took to dashing between workstations for cover. The first twin scooped the lot into the abandoned dish and held it up threateningly. The second twin cursed, turned and ducked behind Harry who could only watch the bowl of candy headed toward his face. Or it would have been if Draco had not darted in front of him and put up a shield spell. The dished clattered against it with a metallic ring then fell to the floor with a clunk, sweets plopping around them on the floor.

Behind the Slytherin Harry beamed. "Did you just save me from a sweet bowl?"

No one said anything.

"That was...Valiant." Except Harry who obviously did not fear death.

Rene and the twins exchanged nervous glances. Even Percy Weasley watched though he appeared amused rather than concerned. The older boy didn't seem phased by their attempted murder of one another earlier though so his judgment was suspect. Rene thought he might be a sadist or voyeur or something.

Draco had yet to move, refusing to look at the other boy. "Please stop talking."

"I'll never fear assault by sweet as long as I live." Harry continued, a smile on his face.

Draco turned with a growl. "Do shut up-" Harry threw his arms around the taller boy's middle. Draco froze, arms stiff at his sides, silver eyes staring at the Gryffindor hugging him in strange expression of horror and delight and panic.

"Er," said one of the twins a few minutes later, "Malfoy's not breathing."

It was true.

In a testament to his self-control Rene turned away from the odd turn of events, swallowing venom, at the sound of a knock. Cracking the door revealed the sixth year Cassius and just behind him the ever quiet Garnett. Cassius gave Rene a small nod. "Is Malfoy within?"

Rene opened his mouth, then shut it. Almost immediately the truthserum forced him to give an answer.

"Ah. He is preoccupied at the moment. I'm sure it'll be sorted quickly enough though."

Cassius raised a brow, flicking his hair over a shoulder and crossing his arms. A damning amount of curiosity dancing on his face. "Preoccupied with what?"

Rene glanced over his shoulder.

"...Dying of embarrassment."

* * *

**AN:**

I feel as if I am always apologizing for not updating quicker. I really am sorry, and I am trying to post as soon as the chapter is ready. Keep in mind I write ahead by a lot and I have other chapters and scenes I'm working on for this story and my others at the same time, so cut me a break yeah? Hopefully you lot haven't gotten bored with me in my absence.

Ever Yours

**-Pseu (The magnificent!)**


	20. Chapter 19

**The Rivalry**

* * *

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ **Synonyms:** _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Rage. Sneaking around. Bullying. Depression. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** I have chapters stacked up waiting to be posted. I wasn't able to do so for two days there and then some real life stuff came up and it was frustrating. I did not bother editing this chapter in favor of posting it. You can expect rapid updates on this and my other stories as well. If there are any glaring mistakes let me know and I will remedy it as quickly as I am able. Thank you for reading.

Ever Yours

**-Pseu**

* * *

_You'll never see any scars or wounds, I don't walk on coals, I won't walk on water_

_I am no prince, I am no saint, but I will stand behind and be someone to fall back on_

_You've been alone I'd rather be, half of us, the least of you, the best of me, and I will be_

_I'll be your prince, I'll be your saint, __I will go crashing through fences in your name_

_I'll be the one who waits for as long as you let me_

_I will be the one you need_

_I__'ll be someone to fall back on_

* * *

Life is such an unintolerable hell solely because it is sometimes beautiful, even if by a bystanders observations.

The moment Potter threw himself into Draco and clasped his arms around his middle Draco felt a sharp pain, a searing dagger to the chest. It was a staggering, unexpected pain and it managed to be utterly delicious all the same. The searing penetration and his own icy shields melded together to form an anchor holding him in place. He'd never felt more appallingly awake. Draco had a half second to process the thought when he was hit with a wall-like wave of emotion. _Fear of rejection. Hope. Affection. Hurt._ Potters emotions slammed into him, through his defenses, gouging a hole inside of him and then filling it until he was certain his ribs would begin bowing outward to make room for all of it. Was this how Potter felt all of the time? How could anyone feel so much? Draco swallowed, breath catching in his throat. Such emotions weren't shared with him. Not willingly. Indeed they were protected from him if their owner knew better. Potter certainly knew better, he had to have his suspicions by now. He knew Draco was not human.

Guilt flooded him then and panic and horror. His own.

If only he could be numb or at least miserable, all of the time. If there could be no such thing as love or beauty or hope, if he could be absolutely certain that his understanding and involuntary attachment to Potter could never be returned - how simple his life would be again! He could continue with his plans, trudging through it with his chin up and his eyes narrowed and his walls firm, never to be bothered about such superfluous things as happiness or hope.

...but he couldn't quite stop the myriad of tiny cracks in his mask, or from reaching out tentatively, hoping, believing, _wanting._

No. No he was not so miserable or detached as it would be wise to be.

Arms smaller than his own clung tightly to him, the body they connected to pressed against his own firmly in an obscenely committed sort of way. It was a horrifying thing to Draco. How could Potter open himself up to danger like that? Didn't he know what he was?

What he could _do?_

No one touched him. No one shook his hand or offered to, no one patted his back or attempted to. He was certainly never hugged. Hell his parents didn't touch him. The majority of his peers did not know what Draco was but they could sense it, in the hairs on the backs of their necks and the whispers of fear up their spines, they knew it as if by instinct. DANGER.

His silver eyes gazed down at the Gryffindor who'd so thoroughly attached himself to his person and he quite abruptly lost the ability to breathe.

The closer he was to his victim the stronger the connection. And here the golden boy was, wrapped around him, not even air between them. He could shred his soul and there was nothing the smaller boy could do about it. That Potter trusted him in spite of this froze him in place, unwilling to let himself come into anymore contact with the other boy than he already was. He could not encourage this. Draco broke things. He twisted them and tarnished them. He didn't know how to do anything else.

He stared at the boy and felt a growing, oily piece of possessiveness he'd successfully pushed back, until now. It rose within him, mixing in with the mess of Potter's emotions and his own feelings of panic and it bent and twisted and _something_ happened. Draco knew then he never wanted the world to see Potter the way he saw him. Large green eyes flickering red filled with melancholy and mischief, lush hair held on end by the static of his magic, blood dripping from his shirt, open brokenness barred before him like a wolf baring its neck to another alpha in hopes of being accepted into the pack and protected. It was a horrific sight in its shattered loveliness and he knew he could never let the world see it. He couldn't compete with the world if it ever decided it actually wanted Potter rather than wanting to play with him. But it was the world its self which had given Potter to him and he'd be damned if he let it have him back.

_He hurt too much._ Potter hurt in ways nothing else could and for this sort of pain Draco found words lacking. He felt that there ought to be audible, visible cries and cracks and snaps of lightning and fissures and the spurting of blood and flashes of light. Something to show for it. The feeling was far too immense to be so easily held within himself, to be so life altering and eye opening and still so invisible to the outside observer. He had to have Potter, he had to keep him if only because no other pain could match it and nothing but pain ever made it through Draco's ever present numbness to the world. And even then the pain had always been rather muted, not this clear low tone bell rolling its echoes through a castle of glass. This was something entirely different and he found that this pain quite suited him.

It hurt in a refreshing, thrilling sort of way, making him dig his nails into the palms of his hands, bite his teeth into his lip and lock his knees as if to withstand a great a blow from a too strong opponent. While less fear inducing to the eyes, Potter affected him no less fiercely. Just when it occurred to him that he had been quiet for far too long and he should say or do something Potter moved against his chest to look up at him with those wide fractured eyes and blinked. Draco blinked back, somewhat bewildered.

Seemingly satisfied Potter cuddled back into his chest, eyes closed.

He knew the right thing to do would be to push the smaller boy from him and strengthen his sharp frozen edges against, to make it clear such things weren't to be apart of the relationship, whatever sort it might be, _twisted_ as it was. He should tell him now in front of an audience, he should be all pointed tongue and bruising words scattered in carelessness at the Gryffindor's feet. He should end this now before it could begin. Draco Malfoy was very selfish by nature and he found he could not bare to let this pain recede now that he'd felt it. The sheer anomaly of feeling anything at all and feeling it so much and it all being Potter's fault...he couldn't let it go. Draco also knew a better person than him would take greater care of Potter, he would handle him far gentler than Draco cared to and he would fix Potter's brokenness and then let him out to save the world as many expected him to do. To go out and die for it. Draco was not so noble nor so naive. He liked Potter just the way he was. He liked that he was so battered up and jagged along the edges that his affections hurt so completely. There was something so honest and pure about it that drew him like a moth to flame. A moth who wanted very much to_ burn._

Draco was utterly speechless. How could Potter be so happy when all Draco had done was not push him away or demand him to quit his assault on his body? He wasn't even returning the gesture. Feeling foolish, horrified, oddly pleased and borderline panicked, Draco slowly looped his arms around the boy. It was much too tight if the slight gasp Potter gave was anything to go by.

He had always felt that there was something _wrong_ with him. Something in him missing that made him undesirable. Some important something that kept people from wanting him enough to brave the danger that came along with him. His parents and his peers had done nothing to rid him of this belief. But now. Standing here with the tarnished boy savior wrapped around him, a boy as convinced of his own unworthiness as Draco, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with _everyone else._ How could the ginger push something like this away? How could the world yank him around like he was nothing? Potter was everything to him in that moment. And he realized, startled, that he was more than the momentary escape from his life he'd thought himself to be for Potter, he was everything to him as well. He should have realized. After the blood ritual he'd certainly suspected. But how could anyone ever want a monster?

The very idea was fantastically, wildly improbably, but like most fantastically, wildly improbable ideas it was at least as worthy of consideration as a more mundane one to which the facts had been strenuously bent to fit.

Fact. Life tears everyone down. It trips them and kicks them in the teeth and rips them apart piece by piece. It was a fact. Life is cruel. He had a thought though...a thought without any real facts to back it up...he was considering the possibility that people could perhaps be mended. Not fixed, not put back together, but _held_ together. Draco tightened his arms around the boy, smiling at the slight squeak it invoked when he did it just a little too much. Maybe they could mend each other? Maybe they could hold each other together and make it through it together? Maybe his father was wrong. Maybe he didn't have to be alone.

"I have a feeling," He whispered, "that staying close to you will be the end of me."

Potter tilted his head up to look at him questioningly. The boy didn't have a clue the power he held over Draco and Draco couldn't find it in him to do something about it.

A throat cleared. Draco glanced over at the twin gingers, raising an eyebrow, daring them to say anything about them...not killing one another. He'd be more than happy to send off a letter to the mother weasel informing her of her sons' predicament. They'd be forcibly separated in a day.

Widened eyes proved his message got across. Good. It wouldn't do for them to be fooled by this...display. They were not Potter. They could be destroyed.

"Are you finished fighting then?" One of them asked warily.

Draco grinned, teeth showing. "Oh that wasn't fighting." He said.

"It wasn't?" They exchanged dubious expressions.

"No. It was foreplay."

Potter pulled back and smacked his arm, green eyes flashing, "_You've got to stop saying things like that!"_


	21. Chapter 20

**The Rivalry**

* * *

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural**: rivalries. _Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field._ **Synonyms:** _opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: T.** For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Rage. Sneaking around. Bullying. Depression. Blood Magic. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

_Clutching my cure I tightly lock the door, I try to catch my breath again_

_I hurt much more than anytime before, I have no options left again_

_I don't want to be the one the battles always choose 'cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused_

_I don't know what's worth fighting for or why I have to scream b__ut now I have some clarity to show you what I mean_

_I don't know how I got this way, I'll never be alright_

_I'll paint it on the walls 'cause I'm the one at fault, I'll never fight again_

_And this is how it ends_

* * *

Harry sped from the room of requirement without a word as soon as he finished with the potions for Cassius and Garnet. He ignored Hermione in the hall when she tried to speak to him and then ignored Ron in the dorms, pushing past him into the washroom and locking the door behind him. He quickly downed two of the pain potions he made for himself. It took an excruciating half an hour to dull the pain shooting through his body and he spent it leaning against the sink, holding to it tightly, cursing and biting back screams. He could hear Ron taunting him from the other side.

"You're acting like a little girl Harry. Let me know when you get tired of sulking. I'm not the one crying in a broom closet with Slytherins-"

Harry cleaned up his mess and headed straight for his bed shutting the curtains on Ron's face. He silenced the curtains and flopped on his pillow to stare at the ceiling. Several hours later Harry opened his eyes. He lay there on his bed and felt himself carried back to the monsters laying in wait for him. They drew him near, clutched at him tightly and swept him away by air and by sea, through dark realms no proper soul had ever seen. Harry heaved himself upright, blankets pooling around his waist. Abruptly he stood and leaped from his bed, stumbled across the room and into the washroom with barely the sense of mind to wave his hand and silence the room. He stood there grasping the edge of the sink, arms shaking, staring at the mirror. At the boy with desperate green eyes rimmed with shadows, tanned skin glistening with sweat, dark hair sticking to his forehead. Harry swiped aside his fringe to expose the scar the brought him into this mess. Something was different today. A door long locked inside of him burst open and he would never be able to close it up again.

_Enemies of the Heir beware._

_You're a wizard harry._

A single finger touched his reflection, the glass smooth and cold, rather like Malfoy he thought, and tried to convince himself the person he saw was himself. Willing himself to forget everything this world expected him to be and to see himself as he was. It was so obvious really how could they have missed it. How could they have ever thought he was this naive, ever forgiving boy with an easy smile? He tried out the mask and it screamed FRAUD.

_Oi, Darth Potter!_

_You speak Parseltongue, snake language._

_Stop acting like a pureblood._

The same darkness strangled him, the same unfathomable black eternity his thoughts were striving against and pretending they did not understand. Inside of him, down among the motionless shadows lurked invisible things, things that were nameless, shapeless and malignant. Things which could see without being seen. Things looking out at the world, clawing against his insides, growling and biting and just waiting to get out. _Freak_ they whispered. _Worthless. Weak._ Beating against his ears in rhythmic timing to the shooting pains of the behavior cuff on his wrist, both in direct contrast to the steady almost too slow movements of his traitorous heart. Every unwanted movement in his body, every abrupt stiffening, every twitch that he could not anticipate or arrest, was a reminder that even in the dominion of his own being he was not the one calling the shots. He couldn't tell someone. Hell he couldn't think about telling someone without the pain nearly knocking him off his feet.

_Scared Potter?_

_Your mother's eyes._

_I think it's obvious if you're wanted here or not._

_Use the boy._

Fighting it took every ounce of his self-control and it hurt. Every breath he took tore down his throat and exploded into his lungs to slam against his chest. Every step he took or word he spoke that did not fall in line with Dumbledore's expectations came at a cost. He made an effort to find a word black enough to characterize this darkness, some word so horribly black that it would darken his lips if he uttered it. Labeling things, putting them into categories, this was how man convinced himself he had some measure of control over the chaotic world he found himself abandoned within. Harry knew though that control was only ever an illusion. The only thing you had control over was yourself. Unless you were Harry, he thought bitterly feeling a poisonous amount of resentment toward his self.

_This is a necessary evil, as one might put it._

_We even look something alike._

He was pacing, his body whipping back and forth in uneven strides along the length of the washroom. He pulled at his hair and scratched at his arms before pounding and kicking at the wall and then the door. Harry turned and then turned around the other way, laying his forehead against the cool of the stone and screaming. He slid down until his knees smacked the floor and he sat there. He didn't know how long. When his legs started to hurt and thought he could breath properly he stood and pushed the door open. Quickly shoving his shoes on he stopped only to toss on a robe and retrieve his wand and the cloak. Harry was out the door, down the steps and across the common room before he knew where he was heading. Through the corridors, beyond the gargoyle statue and he was rapping at the door and barging in without welcome.

The old wizard stood beside his desk as if anticipating Harry's arrival. This only agitated him more. He couldn't stand it. His every move, his every possible choice being analyzed.

"I can't do this anymore!" He burst out. Harry tore off his glasses and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, sucking in deep breaths that never seemed to fill him up enough. Dumbledore for his part merely motioned to the chair beside his desk and sat himself in his own around the other side. Blue eyes glanced him over, wrinkled face settling into a kindly, patient expression.

"I know this is a lot to handle Harry." He began, reaching out to pat his hand and frowning when Harry pulled it back like it burned. "Why not get some nice hot chocolate from the kitchens and then get some sleep? It'll look better in the morning, I promise."

"With all due respect, sir, I sincerely doubt Tomorrow has ever called to ask your opinion in its fashioning."

The old wizard's eyes twinkled. "Alas even I can not control fate."

"You haven't got a problem trying to control mine." Harry bit out before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking very tired. He looked around his own office at all of the unidentified, spinning and beeping gadgets mixed in with books and scrolls and paperwork with a wistful air about it. "I know it seems that way my boy but you must believe me when I say I do this with the best of intentions."

"Some of the worst things imaginable have been done with the best of intentions."

The headmaster gave a nod, his gaze turning calculating. Harry wouldn't have caught it before but hanging around Malfoy as much as he was this year gave him a marvelous read on people.

"Perhaps. I must have faith in my judgment and you must have faith in it as well. Everything I do, no matter how harsh or heavy it may be, is always done with the greater good in mind."

He wanted to scream again. He wanted to pick up his shining trinkets and toss them against the fireplace along the far side of the room. He wanted ti light the office flame and watch it burn. Anything to get a genuine reaction out of the man. Anything but these carefully chosen expressions and gestures all meant to put him at ease but dfid nothing but put him on edge. His soft voice belied his thoughts.

"What about my good? I'm fourteen, I ought to be getting rebellious and dating and drawing pictures on my desk in Transfiguration to traumatize first years. Not screaming in a locked bathroom because the behavior modification cuff my headmaster put on my against my will is burning me from the inside out. I'm not a _pet_. I neither need nor desire a leash. Sir."

Dumbledore sat up straighter. "I do not see you as a pet Harry. You must understand you are doing this to yourself. You _do_ know that, don't you Harry? I made it very clear the expectations required of you while wearing the cuff. If you are choosing to do things you know you ought not to then you are choosing to receive the negative aspects of the cuff. You are choosing to be punished," he paused to peer at him over his glasses, "I wonder if perhaps at a deeper level you_ want_ to be punished?"

Harry stared. He couldn't be serious.

"Sir-"

"I am disappointed you are resisting like this Harry. I thought _you_ understood. I thought you knew better than your more naive peers that life isn't fair-"

"Of course I know that!"

"-and yet you think your life is of more value than your peers? You shouldn't have trials to face you should be a child as you wish while others may suffer as a result of _your_ inaction? Is that really what you want Harry?" The headmaster leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

Harry licked his lips, throat dry. "I never said that."

"Actions speak louder than words my boy."

He felt like the breath in his lungs just disappeared. "I couldn't agree more," he whispered hoarsely, "You can try to control me through this, this vile thing." He slammed his fist on the desk, "I have control over how I plan to react to my circumstances. I have control over how I feel, what I think and what I choose to believe."

"Of course Harry," Smiled Dumbledore, "And I have faith you will choose to do the right thing."

The right thing. The greater good. "I'm just fourteen. I don't understand why it matters who I-"

"You are The-Boy-Who-Lived Harry. You don't get to be fourteen."

And it was in that moment of distress and confusion that the whip of terror laid its calculated lashes against him. It dropped again and again with deadly effect, completely unraveling him. He stood motionless for an instant, listening to his heart within his chest, listening to the clatter of his wand as it slipped through his fingers to the ground. Harry staggered sideways and held himself up against the wall, disorganized hopelessly in mind and in spirit. He had believed, truly believed, that Dumbledore cared for him. That he wanted to help him, that he was doing this for Harry. _The-Boy-Who-Lived._ To him in that moment it seemed the most shattering and dislocating experience he had ever known, so that his heart and his soul emptied of all feeling. It seemed ages before he could find anything in the chaos of his scattered sensations to which he could anchor himself steady. He did find it though.

Harry reached out and slid the offered seat closer, sat in it and looked pointedly away from the headmaster. He traced the behavior cuff with a finger, his breath coming back to him in too quick gasping gulps. "It's a funny thing, don't you think," he gasped, "in a tragically human sort of way, how we can convince ourselves that we're in control at the very moment we are about to lose it."

The blue eyed wizard frowned at him. "What do you mean Harry?"

"Is the only way this can come off by your leave?" He asked instead of answering.

"I...yes Harry." Dumbledore answered slowly. "The behavior modifier is keyed to my magical signature and yours. None but mine can disengage it."

He locked eyes with the old wizard. "I want it off."

Dumbledore's shoulder's rose and then fell with a sigh. "I can not do that. I do not believe you will make the correct choices without and until I see an improvement in your behavior I will not consider removing it."

Harry stood and kicked the chair away from him, turning to the door. He paused and took a look at the headmaster over his shoulder.

"You seriously underestimate me if you think I don't see another way out of this."

"Harry wait-" He turned and let the door slam behind him. Harry followed his feet trusting them to know his subconscious wants and needs better than he did. It was an odd thing to trust one's feet but then if you couldn't trust your own feet whom could you trust? And they must know what they were doing, he reflected, because they did not falter a single step. Sweeping through halls and up staircases never once coming upon another student. No prefects or patrolling professors. They led him up and up and pass the inner balcony that was good for framing icy blonds and pretending things were fine. They took him beyond the door and into the night air, across the viewing platform. No, he knew it now, his feet had known exactly what they were doing.

Some other part of him, with a greater attachment to painful things than his numb, determined feet struggled against them at the railing of the outer balcony. While his body waged war against its self Harry allowed his mind to ponder the recent turn of events. It was not that he hadn't known his friends would be disappointed in him if they ever learned even a hint of what lay beneath his carefully crafted persona. He could see it coming. They didn't want him. They wanted Harry Potter. They wanted a bashful smile and easy forgiveness. But Harry had never been as humble as he pretended nor had he any inclination to be forgiving. He only pretended to forgive and he thought pretending to forgive someone was much worse than refusing to do so all together. He seemed to be the only one who had such thoughts and the world didn't thank him for sharing. No, he wasn't surprised. It was just one of those things. But Dumbledore...

He'd tried to cry thinking that maybe it would help but having lived most of his life in cupboard under the stairs where silence was the key to survival he'd learned to cry on the inside rather than the outside and realized he did not quite know the mechanics of forcing tears out of his eyes. So instead he cried on the inside and his eyes filled with tears he was conditioned not to shed and they felt very full and hot. Not long after he began screaming. He screamed at the heavens, at the gods surely laughing at him, he screamed until his throat threatened to rebel and grew raw and weak and the screams were demoted to whispers. And he knew when it finally relented, and he was so utterly numb and full of nothing, that it was not because the gods out there cared. It was because they'd become so bored and indifferent of him that he wasn't worth the trouble any longer. They'd finished with him.

He took a moment to send a half hearted glare at the sky. It was nothing like the night he'd brought Draco here. The world had been gray covered and thrashing with wind and rain and glimpses of lightening in the sky. Now it was hushed and everything lay still and tense. Harry smiled. A tragic, broken sort of thing. His fingers ran along the cuff on his other wrist and he found his smile broadening, baring his teeth in its ferocity. Standing on the railing his feet had dutifully climbed on to, apparently they had won the war he'd quite forgotten about, he tore his eyes from the stars to look directly down on the darkened grounds.

It was as if the world held its breath.


	22. Chapter 21

**'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''**

* * *

**The Rivalry**

* * *

**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** Rivalries_. __Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. _**Synonyms:**_ opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: Officially T+**

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a Weapon. Shady Behavior. Rage. Sneaking Around. Criminal Activity. Physical Altercations. Bullying. Blood Magic. Depression. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions?** Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them. I do my best to reply to reviews.

**AN: Over 200 reviews! Once again, to celebrate, feel free to suggest scenes, or characters, you would like to see or see more of in the coming chapters and I'll see what I can do. Or even a question you have about them you'd like answered within the story.**

**ANx2:** Can you say an inbox full of **hate-mail**? If you off me you'll never find out what happens next! Also, and this might be the worst possible time to mention this, while Harry is the main character of the books in _my_ world that does not make him safe from **CHARACTER DEATH**. In fact, in all of my stories no one is safe. Anything can happen to anyone at any time. Nothing is off limits. I'm horrible to my characters indiscriminately. On that note...

**Ever Yours, ****Pseu [Please Don't Hurt Me]**

* * *

_Death surrounds, my heartbeat's slowing down_

_I won't take this world's abuse_

_I won't give up! I refuse!_

_This is how it feels when you're bent and broken - This is how it feels when you dignity's stolen_

_The last thing I heard, was you whispering goodbye, and then I heard you __flat-line_

_No! Not gonna die tonight, we're gonna stand and fight forever_

_Don't close your eyes!_

_Break their hold, because I won't be controlled, they can't keep their chains on me when the truth has set me free _

_This is how it feels when you take your life back, this is how it feels to finally fight back_

_When life pushes me I push harder - What doesn't kill me makes me stronger_

_No! You're not gonna die tonight!_

_We're gonna stand and fight_

_Forever_

* * *

**oOoOo**

**Control.**

Our hearts are wild things. Even the strongest of us must resort to one of two extremes in an effort to control it and circumvent its weaknesses. They love their possessions and their money, or they love themselves. For Draco the heart was a traitorous entity with declared intentions. It would, given half the chance, betray him. The answer for him was indifference. If he cared for nothing, nothing could hurt him or use him to hurt those he cared for. Or so his father always warned him. He could _not_ love his mother, and though she cared for him she was too frightened to lovely him properly and he knew it. His parents saw no reason to hide it. Draco could _not_ love his pets, his animals were useful tools and nothing more. He could _not_ love, or even truly have, anything remotely like friends. This was by far the easiest for his peers could sense without deeper understanding why that Draco was not available for loving or companionship or any other childish nonsense. Human nonsense.

**Control.**

Draco could not love himself. If he did he might allow himself to indulge in other loves and by doing so leave himself a vulnerability he could not afford to have. There was no love for his accomplishments, this could lead to pride which could lead to love of his self. There was no love for his talents or possessions which could lead to vanity. No, his duty to himself and his family was to remain separated from the wold. To walk among the other wizards without being one of them. He wasn't one of them, however it might look otherwise. Draco Malfoy was a monster and his parents never let him forget it.

Thus when the first hug in his memory came to him from Harry Potter, vanquisher of monsters and dark lords alike, it jerked at his personal world view and set it off center. Nothing horrible had happened. He returned the gesture and the sentiment and didn't lose control of himself or his powers. Potter did not figure it out nor did anyone else present. It was sort of anticlimactic.

**Reveal nothing. Feel nothing. Control.**

After years of being told mummy didn't want to hold him because he was too dangerous and he might hurt her, that he could not be alone with other children. The years of training in self discipline and emotional control... His entire universe unraveling all as a result of one oblivious Gryffindor. Potter_ knew_ he was not human of course. Draco knew well that the boy was far smarter than he allowed the public to believe. So, why would he seek comfort from a monster. Why would he seek advice from Draco but not Granger a fellow Gryffindor and a friend as well. Why did he tell Draco what he was thinking and thinks he wanted while keeping his innermost self hidden away from the rest of the world?

**Control.**

When that same Gryffindor performed a blood ritual to bind them together rather than allow the headmaster to part them and resume his role as the Light's poster child, as he probably ought to have done, it finally occurred to Draco that Potter trusted him. Not the sort of trust you expect, where you trust them to guard something of yours or keep silent when you break a rule. Potter trusted him to be honest, to call him out when he was doing something stupid, to listen to him when the world was overwhelming and keep his darker secrets. To hold his pieces together.

An unbelievable amount of faith in someone who tried to dislocate your arm or curse you on a daily basis.

It was, Draco thought, because they were too much alike not to be drawn to the other's presence. Constantly gravitating to one another, never fully able to leave or let go. This inability to let go paired with the growing pull since the blood ritual fill Draco with indecision, restlessness and Potter's emotions. As if he had suddenly become the Gryffindors personal emotional storage device. Angry or annoyed or amused, Draco felt it all. At this point he could confidently report that most of Potters feelings were neither pleasant nor healthy in such amounts. Everything the little Gryffindor felt he felt so much. His emotions were so vivid and when he was particularly angry or sad or even happy it left Draco breathless. How could anyone handle having such intense emotions locked inside of them everyday? Draco could hardly handle it in the semi muted tones emotions came in my proxy. He couldn't even begin to imagine the sheer drain feeling anything at all must be for him.

**Don't let anyone in. Feel nothing.**

So here he was in his Spellcrafting class thinking about things that had nothing to do with whatever it was they were meant to be reading in the text. He was too busy analyzing himself to care. Concern, his own for once, at Potter's abrupt departure several hours earlier. The Gryffindor's emotions did settle when he either fell to sleep or took a calming drought. This gave him some measure of relief from Potter's emotion though not his own recently less obedient emotional responses. And that's when Potter's came back full force.

**Control...control...con-**

_I'm sorry_

**Potter? Is that y-**

_Rage!_

_Despair__! _

_Fear! _

_Pain!_

Filling his entire being.

What the hell was his stupid Gryffindor doing? It was not until Potter's emotional waves flat-line into focused calm determination that his own emotions surged forth in alarm. Something was very wrong.

**Potter?**

Draco took a mental step backward into his mind-scape to evaluate the situation, giving up on the class entirely. He looked over the other boy's behavior since the start of term. There was something more going on, something other than the harassment from his house. Something amplifying Potter's inability to deal with it and power through, as he usually did. What was it? What was he missing? A glimmer of a memory flashed by, Draco snatched at it and brought it up to attach to the center of the patterns he was weaving. The day Potter say at the wrong part of the Gryffindor table right before he performed the blood ritual. Forced laughter. Awkward body movement which he still had. That feeling Draco had that something horrible was going to happen.

**Potter!**

He was up and walking out the door even as he chided himself for acting like a dog and running after the stupid Gryffindor. He ignored his professor's startled yell after him and the curious eyes of the other students. He wouldn't be able to focus on anything anyway until he could beat some sense into Potter.

Normally he would follow the flavors of the other boys emotions to find him but now it was hard to tell whose emotions belonged to whom. Zeroing in on the Astronomy Tower finally Draco darted through the halls. He vowed to thoroughly chew the Gryffindor out when he was mentally stable for making him run through the halls twice in less than twenty four hours. There were an alarming number of events his father would never hear about being added to the list this year and all of them seemed to revolve around a certain green eyed nuisance.

Draco yanked on the handle to find the door was locked. He allowed himself to roll his eyes. As if something like that could stop something like him. There was a reason his parents has spells that triggered when he approached rather than attempted to lock him out. Truthfully he humoured even those.

Placing a pale hand palm down on the door Draco reached out for the strands of magic embedded in it, tasting them. He hit one tasting of shame, fear and pain and he examined it further. He pulled on the threads. Immediately the flavour of Potter's temperamental magic invaded his senses. Draco's own coiled in response then shot forward, merging and intertwining with it, gently unraveling the spell. The door clicked.

He pulled it open and strode in in time to see his stupid, utterly mad Gryffindor step off of the railing.

**Fuck. That.**

The blonde threw himself forward, hanging half off the raining, to latch into his arm. He held tightly and grunted when the weight of the other boy jerked him hard against the metal railing and nearly brought him tumbling over as well. He hoped this would be enough to snap Potter out of it. Instead in a surprising show of strength the smaller boy pushed off the tower with his feet, loosening Draco's grip on him. He slipped.

Draco had exactly one second to process this and then he reacted. The Slytherin, in a show of disgrace for everything his house stood for, pulled himself the rest of the way onto the railing and jumped.

**-Fifty meters-**

It didn't take long for him to catch up to the Gryffindor, he was larger and weighed more. If they lived through this he might kill him himself. When he was close enough Draco latched on to Potter, bringing him close. He turned them, positioning Draco nearest to the quickly approaching Earth. He swore and flung out his arm, palm facing the ground. There had better not be anyone around to see this and if there was they'd better have enough self preservation not to say anything. Getting caught out over a bloody Gryffindor? His father would disown him!

**-Forty meters-**

Silver eyes shut themselves behind pale eye lids. Draco reached out once more, his magic flickering along the various enchantments and wards Hogwarts was soaking in, tasting each just enough before slithering along to the next in search of something suitable. Anything suitable. The loud flavour of protection coming from over there caught his attention. Draco focused and pushed himself through the connection and down the threads until he met the ward, merging within.

**-Twenty five-**

Pooling his magic then releasing it Draco started the process of reconstructing and expanding, building layers to preserve their bodies during impact. It was far more magic than he was used to manipulating, the emotions bold and solid. Singular. Nothing like Potter's prism of sharp, blinding emotions, but still a lot to feel at once and a lot to control.

By his calculations** -fifteen-** he'd done all he could in the alloted time. If he held tightly and didn't let the magic snap back into place he should have ensured their **-ten-** relative survival and be able to throttle the other boy very soon. He didn't bother thinking about what would happen if even one of his** -five- **calculations were off. That was something he would take up with Potter in the after life.

**-One-...**

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**Pseudonymous Entity**

**2015**

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**NOTES:**

Any guesses what Draco might be? Comments? Questions? Limericks?


	23. Chapter 22

TheRivalryTheRivalryTheRivalryTheRivalry

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**The Rivalry**

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_"My father told me once t__hat the most important thing every man should know i__s what he would die for." _**― Tana French**

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**Rivalry.** Noun. **Plural:** Rivalries_. __Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. _**Synonyms:**_ opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: Officially M**

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence involving minors. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a Weapon. Shady Behavior. Rage. Sneaking Around. Criminal Activity. Physical Altercations. Bullying. Blood Magic. Depression. Questionable all around really.

**Got Questions?** Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them. I do my best to reply to reviews.

**AN: **I had a hard time, on a personal level, writing this chapter. I often draw from my own experiences when writing and this story is no different. I used other stories as a sort of scape goat to avoid dealing with it. But, I have persevered and posted it for you as an apology and gift going into the new year. As an advanced notice I do to intend to begin rewriting this series. The fact being I can do it much better now. The storyline and characters will remain the same, I shall simply handle certain events better and add in information better so it isn't quite so confusing. It won't be a huge change but enough of one to make me feel better because this is actually my favourite story of mine. Until then I'll give you something here for you to keep you occupied. You can also always check out _Adventures in Magic_, or _Everybody Wants to Rules the World_, or _Friend or Foe_, if you'd like to see some of my newer stuff.

**Ever Yours, ****Pseu [HAPPY NEW YEAR]**

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_This is a second coming, this is a call to arms_

_Your finest hour won't be wasted, Hey! Hell is what you make_

_Rise against your Fate_

_Nothing's gonna keep you down...Even if it's killing you, because you know the truth_

_Listen up! Listen up!_

_There's a Devil in the church, Got a bullet in the chamber and_

_This is gonna hurt." _

**-SIXX AM**

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It was both soft and abrupt. The way Draco had always imagined death would be.

They were not dead, however, and it was in no part_ at all_ thanks to the suicidal wizard he clasped to him like a lifeline. Ironic really. Taking in a breath Draco started the process of releasing his hold on the wards. He intended to do so gently though they were perhaps a foot above the ground. He didn't dare look to confirm this because he didn't think he would be able to hold his control on the wards if he returned even a bit of consciousness to his own body, at least not the amount required to look at the world through his own eyes. No, he would have to do this blind so to speak. Wards were difficult things in their own right. Layers within layers woven together to create them, and ones as old as the ones at Hogwarts were foreign to him in their design. Granted he did not have a real base in knowledge of wards at all. He'd simply unwoven enough smaller ones -for example the ones keeping him from his father's study- that he had an intimate understanding of their mechanics outside the theory of their construction or indeed their actual creation. That being said the Hogwarts wards were at first glance something similar and yet now he was entangled within them they felt more like several spools of thread in different shades of the same colour all jumped together. Feeling the stirrings of panic in the outer corners of his mind Draco finally cut off the connection altogether. A bold move. His father would have wholeheartedly disapproved. His father would disapprove of a lot of things he was doing lately.

They fell to the ground with a muted thud. Fortunately the Gryffindor outcast he was trying -in vain it would seem- to protect had always been a slender wizard and was just as light as he looked.

Draco pushed the realization he could alter the wards of Hogwarts away into his mind palace to look at later. He had other things to occupy his attention at the moment. For instance, what on earth was the idiotic Gryffindor thinking? For one, they were blood brother's now and that made Potter his and if something belonged to a Malfoy no one but the Malfoy decided when and if it was discarded. Killing himself would almost be stealing really. In addition...why hadn't he come to Draco for assistance? Surely he knew Draco be there for him, as much as someone or something like Draco _could_ be, and that he wasn't alone? The elder Weasley was there for him to talk to as well. Draco had known of course that Potter was not handling whatever was going on with him well. That had been obvious. But the boy had insisted on dealing with it himself and as long as he was standing and coherent there wasn't a whole left for Draco argue with. Not in Gryffindor language anyway. His life would be far simpler if the other boy had gone to Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Logic and self-preservation were two things Potter appeared to be immune to, however. Something Draco intended to rectify. Immediately.

He took a quick inventory of himself and his passenger and decided they were both well enough to have a much-needed confrontation. No, 'discussion', it sounded more Slytherin that way. All of this emotional distress and acting without thinking was too Lion for his tastes. Maybe that was part of Potter's problem. The wizard just felt too much and he felt it_ all_ of the time. Most of it negative in nature. Without an outlet, it was enough to drive anyone mad. He came back to himself just as Potter registered he was alive, on the ground, and not alone.

"Are you out of your mind!?"

Draco reminded himself that it would be counterproductive to strangle or curse the raven haired boy. "This coming from the wizard I caught in the process of premeditated self-murder?"

"That's not the same thing! Someone -anyone- could have seen you. What did you even do? Someone had to have noticed that._ Dumbledore_ must have noticed that. I felt it and I haven't been able to feel much of anything outside of-"

"Outside of what?" Draco prodded.

Potter refused to answer.

At this point Draco was so full of emotions he didn't really understand and didn't know what to so with that he willingly tossed aside his efforts to keep this Slytherin and went full Gryffindor on The-Boy-Who-Lived. He chucked him off of him, rolled over and punched him in the arm. Hard. If there was a language Potter spoke fluently it was Gryffindor. They actually ended up wrestling for a bit. Potter was surprisingly agile. He didn't seem surprised when Draco managed to pin him down, only resentful.

"You were trying to kill yourself." It wasn't a question. They were beyond their normal dancing about the flame that they usually did.

Potter glared. "I'm aware. What were you doing? Joining in?"

Defensive. Avoiding eye contact. Shifting the focus. He picked a hell of a time to try out Slytherin evasion techniques. Praying to whoever might be listening to give him the patience he so desperately needed to deal with this, Draco sat up slowly. There was more than one way to get his answers. "I need to know what is going on Potter." His suddenly calm demeanour seemed to throw the golden boy off.

"I- I'm not telling you Dra-"

"Oh, I wasn't asking." Draco lay his left hand palm down on Potter's forehead and the other palm down over his heart. He did feel a _tiny_ nudge of guilt over doing this without permission. It was a severe invasion of privacy and extremely disrespectful considering the bond they now shared. But Draco was beyond caring for such things. He released his power, burrowing it into the boy beneath him like a hot knife slicing through ice. He pressed into and through the slight resistance the other boy's magic gave, part of it reconsigning Draco as a piece of its self. The price they both paid for sharing blood. The further into him he pressed the further from himself he drifted, leaving himself once more open to danger. All of this for a bloody Gryffindor. His ancestors were rolling in their graves.

Vaguely he heard Potter asking him what he was doing. Then the boy's body seized up and he knew_ exactly_ what Draco was doing. Potters magic and his magic entwined. The flavours and scents mixing to become indistinguishable. He tasted it, followed the emotions woven into it, attributing them to this or that category, receiving messages from them in return. Glimmerings of images. He flowed deeper along the fragile tissues and skittered against tiny bones. Diving in and out and around veins and arteries. It had been a long time since he had put his power to use in such a way and when he had done it then he hadn't known just what he was doing. Every day after that his parents had made him aware. Kept him aware. Reminded him of it. That somehow he'd gotten too much of his father's family magic and too much of his mother's and they weren't sure why it had happened. Only that it must be kept secret and that he must never lose his control.

_No skin on skin contact Draco._

_Yes mummy loves you but you wouldn't want to hurt her, would you?_

_We don't need to hug mummy._

Monster. That's what he was. And here he was using his monsterness to infect his friend. Friend? His something. Draco forced his mind palace into being, pinning up different images that stood out in relation to the negativity the other boy was feeling. There was a large man with a red face. The inside of a small room with bars on the window. What was obviously him and Weasley arguing. The words '_worthless_' and '_freak_' came up a lot. Dumbledore. A leather cuff. The awful things the other students had been saying to Potter lately. The-Boy-Who-Lived. You don't get to be fourteen. Who said that? And pain, all throughout it pain lit him up like an unholy mantra, repetitive and consistent and unbearable. And then oddly family words crept in, ones that Draco disliked ever being in the other boy's thoughts. Lie. Don't feel. Don't think. Autopilot. Lie. You must lie. Just pretend. But I disagree! You must lie._ Leather cuff._

Unable to handle this procession Draco pulled back and stepped into his palace on his own, releasing the other boy. Draco flipped through the images. They were connected. Leading him toward their end like a fairy light in the night. Potter was allowing something to happen to him now that he didn't like because he believed he ought to or that it was required of him. He didn't seem to fight against it because he thought it was wrong, but because he thought it wasn't fair. And then shame at thinking whatever it was wasn't fair. Who the hell felt guilty for _that_? Harry Potter apparently. And Draco had thought he had issues. It was there, though. Something he'd been seeing but hadn't put together. The Gryffindor standing before a pile of damaged possessions. Potter sitting at the Gryffindor table. Potter holding one of his arms stiff and away from himself, hyper-aware of its placement. His endless torrent of emotion. Leather cuff. Dumbledore. The old man did something...with the...

Draco pushed himself into his body, slamming inside with an alarming headache afterward. Ignoring that ignoring all the emotions roiling through him, Draco reached for Potter's sleeve before he could stop him. He pulled it down to reveal a leather bracelet that was all too recognizable for the Slytherin. A Behavior Modification Cuff.

"_Circe_." Draco couldn't look away from it. That someone put something so horrid on Potter gave him a hard, focused emotion he couldn't place. Draco knew what it was like to live your life forced to keep your emotions and thoughts and desire in check. To keep them to yourself and even distant from yourself. And he couldn't stand it that someone else was being made to live that way. And in such a horrible fashion. His icy fingers felt along the rim of the cuff. Someone had damaged something that belonged to _him_. He pulled his hand back, shaky fingers curling into a fist.

Unacceptable.

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**PseudonymousEntity**

**2017**

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**AN:** Thoughts, Questions, Theories and Limericks always welcomed.

**ANx2:** Happy 2017!

**Ever Yours, Pseu**


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